Out of Phase
by ChaosValkyire
Summary: The Master Chief...in today's New York City...or is it?
1. Out Of Phase

The Chief knew something was very wrong as he sat up and opened his eyes. The last thing he rememberd was leaping out of the way of a flying plasma rifle, he had killed an elite with a frag grenade, and the detonation had set off the explosives the covenant warrior had, launching the plasma rifle. It had struck him square in the helmet, his shileds down from a prolonged gunfight, and toppled him over, blacking out for a second. Now, he was pulling himself to his feet inside some kind of strange cave...when last he had been in a long, tall hallway, wiping snow off his visor just as the elite came at him. Now, he was in a cave...and wasn't wearing his armor. Something was VERY wrong indeed.  
  
Another thing he noticed was that his hands and ankles were bound by thick ropes, and he was gagged. To his right, a line of tied up people were sitting against the wall, all of them unconcious. Whatever this was, it was a hostage situation of some kind...people didn't just tie themselves up and sit in a cave for fun. The chief decided to leave the "what the fuck is going on here" questions till later. First, he needed mobility. Using his giant strength, he pushed against the thick ropes. As thick as they were they didn't quite tear...but they stretched enough for him to easily slide his hands free and undo his ankles. Next, he needed a weapon. He unwound the rope that had bound his ankles, and held onto it. It wasn't much, but he might be able to strangle someone quietly with it. From the way the people were breathing, they looked to have been nerve gassed with something...all the training John thought he would never put to use came flooding back as he started to walk quietly towards a single wood door...something he had never even imagined before.  
  
Gently, he pulled it open just enough to see inside...it was just another stretch of cave...and finally, his vision went back to normal, and he saw things how they really were. He was in some kind of building, with long, tall, wide hallways...apparently designed for humans to walk through. All his senses kicked back in, and he heard sirens outside, and shouting. A large crowd was outside as well, he could feel the constant vibrations from so many people moving as one. Silently, John slid into the hallway, seeming to glide across the floor, his sharpshooter eyes constantly searching for a target, a threat of anykind. John had gotten to the other end of the hallway, and thought that he was going to be fine, when someone came out of door marked "restrooms". John spun as he heard the footsteps, his eyes scanning the person. A male, face covered with some kind of cloth mask, wearing long pants and heavy boots...and most importantly, armed with an automatic weapon. The man's eyes widened, and John lashed out. A piston like fist crashed into the man's jaw, and dropped him like a stone through water. John caught his body, and lowered him gently to the floor. His mind searched long and hard for what to call this man, and when he finally got it, he almost grunted it out. "Terrorist".  
  
He policed the man's weapon, a true antique weapon...John wanted to whistle at the sight of an AK-74 assualt rifle.  
  
He remembered his fascination for old earth weaponry, and had done extensive study and a report for his lessons with the AI. Quickly, John assessed the weapon. The magazine was full, and the gun was in perfect working order. Attached at the end was a small knife, what John remembered as a bayonet. His instinct told him to disarm the terrorists, just like a training excercise he had undergone. He set the firing mode selector to single shot, and cracked the door, peeking through. Four men, nervous looking, with obviously elevated adrenaliene levels. Their eyes were wide, and they looked like they were about to attack each other. One said something in tounge John had never heard before...it wasn't human...and it wasn't any form of covenant...and no human could speak the language of the flood, if there was one at all. The word terrorist stuck in his mind again and John decided to make his move. Silently, he opened the door just enough to get the barrel of the weapon in. Taking quick aim, he squeezed the trigger once.  
  
The 5.56mm round hit his target square in the back of the head, blowing his brains out. It took mere seconds for John to fire twice more, scoring two more headshots before the last man could even turn around. John fired again, and the fourth and final round punched into the man's left eye, the bullet preforated his skull, blew his brains out, and exited through the back of his head. They dropped, and John blurred into motion. Even without his all powerful MJOLINR armor, he was still impossibly fast for where ever and when ever he was. Quickly, he grabbed the four AK's that the terrorist men had dropped, and ejected the magazines. It was then he realized he was half naked, wearing only the sensory body suit required to operate his armor. John quickly examined the men, and found one had a jacket that would fit him. He left it open but pulled it on, stuffing the clips into a large pocket. John checked the men for other weapons, found none, and was about to head down another door, when one was kicked open, another terrorist looking man already taking aim with his weapon...a sumbmachine gun of some kind. The man squeezed the trigger, and what John guessed was an Uzi sprayed lead into the room. He dove, hitting the floor, still facing the man...who suddenly had a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.  
  
John hadn't even realized he'd fired the weapon, and stood up slowly. Someone's voice could be heard, yelling down the hall. John didn't recognize the language, but decided to take action. He switched clips, and set his weapon to full auto. He ran down the hallway, and saw five men, all armed with uzi's or AK's, walking towards him. Before they could even blink, the first man went down with three shots in his chest, one of them punching into another man who was directly behind him. John dropped into a crouch as someone got a shot off, the bullet zipping over his head as he mashed the trigger down. A hail of bullets tore into someone's stomach, and punched through his back to strike another's sternum. The last man there had taken good aim now, and was about to fire, but John dove sideways, blindfiring the gun. All but one bullet missed, and it struck the target square in the knee. He screamed in agony and fell, holding the ruined bone and screaming. John rolled to his feet, stepped forward, and stabbed him in the throat. And THen, he stood there, simply staring at what was happening. Somehow he knew there were no more "terrorists", and his brain finally had time to start asking questions. He stood stock still, just staring. And when the SWAT team rushed him outside, he didn't even notice he had been moved until sunlight stung his eyes.  
  
His brain was nearly exploding with questions, and his head hurt. He turned to look at where he was, and the world went black. 


	2. Out of Phase 2

Something was there...something was moving, not just one thing, but many things...perhaps fellow marines? That plasma rifle had hit him pretty hard...maybe the medics had found him. Or perhaps the covenant had decided to capture him...and steal his armor for study. It was more likely that the covenant were about to pick him apart. It was also likely that his armor was off. He felt something prick his arm, and his eyes snapped open.  
  
The nurse saw the eyes of the giant man snap open, and jumped. "Holy....Jesus, you scared me, are you alright?" she asked, gently removing the needle. He looked at his arm. "What did you give me?" he asked sternly, in a powerful commanding voice. "A stimulant to help you wake up sir...do you feel alright? Can I get you something?" she asked him. It was then he noticed the Red Cross on her uniform and relaxed. "Water, I'm thirsty." he said, sitting up slowly. "Of course!" she said enthusiasticly, smiling at him...a fake smile that showed her apprehension towards him. She brought him a glass of water as the doctor came in...and the first thing he noticed was how alert the mans eyes were. "Ilene...how much of the stimulant did you give him!?" he snapped, suddenly alarmed. "Uhm...he woke up right as I was about to administer the dose..." she said quietly. The doctor grumbled. "Its true." the giant of a man said. The doctor turned to him, suddenly all professinal again. "Well sir, we couldn't find any information on you...probablly because we don't even have your name...wich the press are pounding on the doors screaming for after what you did...whats your name sir?" he asked.  
  
John responded reflexively. "Sp...ah....John" he said, gulping. He had to be careful, because if his theory on where and WHEN he was had any truth, he was in a lot of trouble. "John what?" the man asked. To himself, he thought..."S H I T" and shifted uncomfortably. "Uh...ow, my head hurts...uhhhh, John Spartan" he said, giving a fake last name. The man scoffed. "Ha-ha, now whats your last name?" he asked. John blinked. "That is my last name..." he said, lying to the lord, but doing oh so well at it, thanks to his training. The doctor raised an eyebrow. "If you say so...are you sure you're alright?" he asked again. John nodded. "Very well. Ilene, give this man some food and bring him more water if he's thirsty." the doctor said, walking out. John was very confused as the nurse looked at him funny. "What?" he asked. "John Spartan, ha-ha...we've all seen that movie mister, thats not cute." she said grumbling at him. John could only shrug.***  
  
When the doctor came back, there were more men with him, diffrent uniforms, and most noticably to John...they were armed. Small 9mm weapons, lacking punch, but accurate enough, semi automatic, clip of about 15 rounds, depending on the model...a classic for this era, used for a multitude of purposes...here, it looked like law support. The man also had a light vest of armor on...it wouldn't stop any kind of heavy round, even a .45 ACP round would be painful, but it would certianly keep him alive if he was shot. Cheap, not very effective, but it kept him alive. The man extended his hand, with a grim look on his face. In the instant the man's arm moved forward, John could have grabbed his wrist and broken his arm in five places, thrown him across the room into the nurse, and leaped off the bed to kick the doctor and escape. But instead, he shook the mans hand. "Mister...John Spartan they tell me? Funny given what you did, but we really need your name sir" he said sternly. "You don't understand, that is my name...I'm uh....not from this country...yeah." he said. The man nodded. "Ahhh, that answers a great many things, we couldn't even find a picture of you...where are you from?" he asked. John racked his memory long and hard until he finally came up with a name. "Uhm...England?" he muttered. "I see...anyway...when you're alright, we need to debrief you...and quite frankly, ask you some questions," he said, hardening his voice. "because what you did in there was...well...impossible, you shouldn't have even been inside according to the demands of the terrorists...they said only 12 hostages."  
  
John grunted. This was NOT good. From what he could feel from this place, there were people everywhere, most of them harmless to him, but a few security men would be armed and quite ready to bring him down if need be. So he wouldn't go blasting out. Stealth it was. "Well...I'd like to sleep on all this for awhile, so how bout tommorow morning?" he asked pleasantly. The SWAT man thought briefly and then nodded. "Very well...nine o'clock" he said. With that, he turned on his heel and left. John had to keep from sighing with relief. He laid back down, and shut his eyes, waiting for the time to pass. ***  
  
This was it. His eyes opened. A clock to his right told him it was about 2am, and due to external lighting levels and the level of activity, he guessed this was their weakest hour. He stood up out of the bed, and moved. He was bare footed in a bright blue, thin garment, hardly ideal for sneaking. He opened the small door to his "room" and slipped into the hallway. Making sure he was clear, he headed to the right, for what appeared to be an elevator. Of course he wasn't stupid enough to use an elevator to just walk out of the place, but it WOULD tell him where the fire stairs were. And indeed, a small sign pointed down a fork to the right. Moving quickly and quietly, John ran in a half crouch. He was just about to open the door when he saw the words ~)ALARM WILL SOUND(~ and swore. Well...maybe the elevator wasn't such a bad idea after all...he thought, pressing the call button. It took a minute to arrive, for he appeared to be on the fifteenth floor. He stepped into the wide car, and pressed the button for ~)GROUND FLOOR(~. The car shook lightly, then began a slow, smooth descent. A loud ping indicated his arrival at the ground floor. There was one woman at the front desk, awake, and looking bored. He walked right up to her. "Uhm...Sir? Are you alright?" she asked him, wondering why a patient was up at this hour. "Yes, I'm fine...I just really need my doctor, I think theres something wrong with my brain, it feels swollen. The woman instantly looked concerned. "Well, whats his name?" she asked, looking down at a phone book. John struck her lightly on the back of the head once. She slumped, unconcious, but unharmed onto the desk. With little time to spare, John went around behind the desk, looking for anything he might be able to use. There was nothing. So he vaulted over the desk...and two elevators opened, spewing armed guards, all aiming pistols at him.  
  
"Alright John, thats ENOUGH! Put your hands on your head and LAY ON THE GROUND!" one man shouted. There was no cover, the 9mm bullets would pack enough punch to rip through anything he could duck behind, except for the desk...wich would be suicide. It was then John noticed there was something wrong. They were all wearing suits of some kind, and all had some heavier armor on. John had one plan in mind, and without his MJOLINR armor, it wasn't looking good. It was possible, due to his speed, that he could dodge bullets with his armor...but without it, he was most certianly dead. He would have to try. He spun around and pushed off with one piston like leg before they could all fire. With that, he jumped straight up, and somehow, he cleared the bullets, the tall ceiling of the place....and it didn't matter, because red and blue lights were flashing outside, and heavily armed men, with rather nasty looking M4 Carbines had formed a semi-circle outside the front door. 


	3. Out of Phase 3

The chief landed in a crouch, and for an instant thought he saw a muzzle flash. But he was still in one peice, 5.56mm rounds weren't chewing him into a bloody, holed up corpse, 40mm HE grenades from the M203 launchers weren't blowing chunks of flesh from his body. "GET ON YOUR KNEES! NOW!" a voice amplified man yelled at him, aiming a side arm with another hand. The chief could feel the snipers looking at him, and just about see the tiny dots dancing around on his chest. Someone, trying to be quiet, whispered to someone behind him "cuff him, they've got you covered."  
  
The cheif felt him walk up quietly behind him and noticed everyone tense up. It was then, that he spotted the weakness among the hardened soldiers in black. The eyes of one were ice cold blue...but they were wide with fear and apprehension. The chief could tell, he'd never shot someone before. His hands were shaking, and his pupils were highly dilated. His stance shifted in just the slightest every few seconds...and one word came to the chiefs mind..."perfect". The police officer was mere steps behind him now...almost...wait...and the chief struck. He moved like a lightning bolt, whipping around behind the man, taking his weapon, choking him with one arm and pressing the weapon against his temple with the other. He barely contained a snicker when he heard all of the men in black mutter "aww shit". They were on the move now, moving to encircle him. "Stop in your tracks, stay stock still, or you'll have brains for a paintjob" he said, referring to the black, armored van, that was intrestingly unmarked, meaning he was dealing with people involved in enough dirty work to not have a public marking.  
  
"Lower the weapons, double time." he hissed, hating the fact that he was holding another human being hostage. Slowly, he backed up, a plan still being formulated. He had the weak point and the transportation, he had something to bargain with, but he still hadn't worked out the snipers. "Tell the scopes to piss off" he said harshly. "Or I'm going to blow this man's jaw off" he taunted, giving a light flinch, causing everyone to tense up. He heard the hushed radio broadcast to the snipers. "If you have a shot, take it as soon as possible, we need this one taken out..." and the chief saw a slight flinch. He raised the pistol and fired into the air. Onlookers screamed, men ducked, but the cheif stayed in one peice. That was when they saw the body, and a highly customized sniper's rifle falling. The body smashed into a car, destorying it, and sending glass everywhere. The rifle however, had been spinning through the air, and landed not far from the chief. John was now aiming at the men, and was glad to hear, "Alright, man down...snipers, hold your fire until instructed."  
  
There were more people behind him, he wouldn't have leverage for much longer. The sniper's rifle gave him an idea though...it was going to be practically impossible, even for the chief, but if it WORKED, he would have enough time to get away on foot until he could find a vehicle. Slowly the chief moved forward, as if he was going to give in. "Ah...look...we don't need anymore killing..." he said nervously, as if backing off, like the death had hurt him. The negoiators were ALL OVER this. "Thats right John...just let him go..." and he felt the last sniper remove his aim. "He raised the pistol from the man's skull, the barrel facing straight up...and in a super quick motion, whipped the hostage in the head, knocking him out cold...but continued to move downward, using his slumped head to brace his shot. He fired once, and a 9mm slug tore into the right eye of who he had decided was the leader of the men in black. Before they could even blink, two more men went down with bullets in the face. John dropped, using the body for a shield as heavier rounds tore into it. Blood was sprayed across his face and shoulders, as he pretended to take hits. Finally, he dropped, but didn't let go of the weapon.  
  
"Holy jesus, holy jesus, is he dead?" the rookie asked. "No way he lived through that. Lets pack it up." someone said. "God...never seen anyone shoot like that..." someone said. John felt them turn, and his hand lashed out, grabbing at the sniper rifle. He was in luck...a .50 calibur anti- vehicle rifle...modified to also carry 7.62mm slugs, clip fed, where it appeared that the .50 cal rounds were put in individually into the proper chamber. The weapon had a dipod, but it weighed quite a bit...to the chief it was almost nothing, but he was still impressed. He rolled into a crouch and took aim. Someone shouted an alarm that he was alive. He had the shot lined up as the first man turned around. He fired, and time seemed to stop as the .50 cal shot punched through the armor sorrounding the gas tank. The chief, as usual, was right on the mark.  
  
The van exploded in a hellish like fireball, and it was blasted up into the air, glass flying, people screaming, but most importantly...briefly incapacitating the armed men. The chief didn't even get to his feet before he was sprinting right at them. Holding the rifle in both hands, the small pistol tucked into the thin pants he wore. He reached the first soldier, who was getting to his feet, and jumped forward, kicking him square in the chest, breaking his ribs, and knocking the wind out of him. Two more were getting up, it appeared shrapnel had wounded a few and killed half as many as that. The two were trying to raise their carbines, when the chief lashed out. The rifle butt cracked the skull of the faster man, and the chief's right foot crashed into the other's side, launching him into another man. The chief heard someone take a potshot, and he rolled forward....to find the buisness end of an M4 in his face....and it was none other than the rookie. John grinned. "You're not going to stop me kid. I can see your nervous...you've still got the safety on" he said. It worked. The young man glanced....and caught a rifle butt in gut, followed up by a swift knee in the face. John grabbed his gun as he dropped it and sprinted, now under slowly increasing fire, to a car. He threw the rifle and carbine in threw the other window, and leapt clear over the car's hood, threw himself into the drivers seat, and hit the gas, seeing as some moron had left the keys in. He sped away, keeping all the lights off, and the city howled after him. 


	4. Out of Phase 4

John had always liked driving, but something was wrong with this car...he couldn't quite tell yet, but something was definitly wrong. There were to many buttons, and the inside was all...flashy...John had heard of such a thing, a dying art in his time, but in these times modifying vehicles to look and preform better was everywhere. And this car certianly had been modifyed. There was a little red button on either side of the steering wheel, and he was getting more and more curious to find out just WHAT it did. But now was not the time, considering he was moving at a high rate of speed and being fired upon, while dodging through light traffic of this hour. His vehicle was unfortunatly modified to be lighter...and the bullets being fired, though innacurate, were penetrating into the trunk and interior of the vehicle on occasion. He recognized the sound of another legendary weapon, the 9mm HK sub macine gun, often employed by paramillitary forces.  
  
The chief knew that soon he would have to abandon this vehicle soon, as more and more vehicles were coming closer to cutting him off, forcing a wreck, and more were joining the chase. When helicopters joined the chase, he knew he would have to ditch soon. After a flat out acceleration on the road he was on, the city seemed to fade...and he saw a drawbridge...a drawbidge being raised. The chief instantly formed a plan. He would either make the jump, and loose the ground vehicles following him, only having to contend with unarmed helicopters, wich he could scare off. Or, he would miss and hit the river below, and swim to safety underwater. And about two seconds before he hit the upward slope, he decided to be bold, and smacked both little red buttons. He jerked in his safety harness as the car SHOT forward, the speedometer going all the way back around to the 50mph mark. The car hit the bridge and shot into the air...and the angle was too high, he might not make it. The chief double checked the safety harness, and prayed the small arms he had captured wouldn't be set off by the landing. When the car hit the road, the chief was rocked forward and up, smashing the top of his head against the top of the windshield.  
  
Blood leaked down the sides of his face and a little was stuck on a now large crack in the windshield. The impact severly lowered his speed, forcing the chief to drop back to third gear before rapidly accelerating. The helicoptors continued to follow, and the chief made sure he was on a long straightaway, traffic non-existant, probablly due to radio warnings to the civillians. John grabbed the M4 carbine from the passenger seat, and made sure he was on a long straight away, before dropping the sniper's rifle onto the accelerator and jamming the steering wheel at the same time. Then, in an insane move, he opened the door, and gripping the frame of the car with one hand, he made ready. The helicoptors saw him, and hesitantly began to pull back. The cheif, however, was highly skilled with just about any kind of shot, and his aiming ahead of the choppers seemed to be stupid. Then, he opened fire, a full auto blast of bullets hammered into the nose of the first helicopter. Rounds penetrated the metal framing, and fuel began to leak out, and very soon, the pilot had lost control. The chief however, didn't take any chances that they might pull out, and kept firing. More slugs punched into the glass beneath the copilot's feet, shattering the glass onto poth pilot and copilot and giving the copilot a bullet wound in the knee, very painful.  
  
There was no way to stop the chopper now. The copilot's screaming and flailing caused the pilot to release his controls, and the copter plowed straight into a building. At first, there was only silence...then the loudest explosion the chief had ever heard. He NEARLY lost his grip on the frame of the car. The clip ran dry, and he dropped the empty weapon onto the road before pulling himself back inside the car. He tossed the sniper's rifle aside and took control of the car again. But as he moved to put his foot back on the accelerator...he noticed the pedal had jammed. For now, it didn't matter, but soon it would. He just held the wheel, and let the car fly forward at close to 126 miles perhour. However, he would have no time to formulate a plan, as an obviously millitary jeep pulled out infront of him. A "Hummer" as they were called. There was a man manning a .50 calibur machine gun, and he knew at the angle and range, that he would not miss. John deperatly yanked the 9mm from his waistband, and took aim. He fired once, and the gunner recoiled, grabbing at his left shoulder. John swore aloud as he finished the aiming of the weapon, and opened fire. Heavy rounds punched into the engine, and John knew he had no choice. He kicked the door off and dove, hitting the street and rolling over and over, his head spinning.  
  
When the rolling stopped, he was amaze to find himself uninjured. The vehicle had exploded, and the millitary jeep was turning around. It was here john thought of something...it didn't really seem possible, but somehow, the properties of his MJOLINR armor had transferred to him...atleast some of them, and it appeared that his shields was one of those properties...and from some of the things he had tried and succeded in earlier, it appeared that added speed and strength was another. John slowly got to his feet, as the jeep bore down on him. He stood his ground as it came straight at him. WHen it reached him, the driver skidded it to a stop infront of him and John could sense the passenger aiming a weapon at him, the gunner pointing the .50 cal machine gun at him. The chief slowly took aim, ignoring their shouts for him to drop his weapon. He fired once, and the gunner fell with a bullet nestled between his eyes, blood and small bits of bone flew as the man slumped dead. The passenger fired his rifle from the door, and the chief stood still. It was as he predicted. The bullet deflected off of his "shields", and the chief could see a nearly transparent distortion in the air around his body. His experiment complete, he dropped to one knee and fired again, spinning. The three shots he fired all connected with his two targets. The first one blasted into the passenger's right eye, spraying gore and dropping him dead, the second cathing him in his forehead as he fell backwards, and the third punching into the drivers skull.  
  
The chief rose, and stepped forward, moving to the passenger. He stripped him of his weapon, an M16A2 rifle, and any ammo he was carrying. The driver was shoved into the street, as the chief commandeered the Hummer, speeding away into the night. 


	5. Out of Phase 5

The chief spun the jeep around as the tank came around the corner. Seconds later, a 90mm shell exploded very nearby, and the jeep flipped. The chief managed to get a hand on the M16A2, but he was ejected through the windshield, somehow his armor's properties protecting him from any serious harm. He landed face down, and stayed laying that way, playing dead. A surprising amount of military forces had been assembled to stop one man, but he found it impressive how well law enforcement could handle such things. He could hear several tanks nearby, and a plethora of infantry men had encircled him, the chief felt about twenty seven weapons trained on him, plus snipers. A tight ring of men was formed around his body, and he could literally feel the tension hit the air as someone said "check him".  
  
John was waiting for just the right moment, this would be simple if all went well. In a blur he was on his feet and aiming the classic weapon. There was a loud pop as the rifle fired, a 5.56mm bullet smashing into the forehead of the nearby tanks gunner. The man slumped over the weapon with gore oozing from his destroyed skull. The chief fired twice more, and blew bits of bone away from the foreheads of two more men. John heard rifle shots, and he knew he was taking hits. He spun and fired three more times, dropping three more men. Then, something he wasn't expecting happened. A rather nasty M249 cut loose, spraying lead in his direction. John sprinted, and dove, skidding on his stomach to lie under the tank. Instantly, the rounds tracked towards the tank, pelting the ground where John had slid under it with very little accuracy flaws. To John, that meant a prone soldier, his weapon supported.  
  
John knew he had about 24 rounds left, plus the hand gun, wich was useless unless it was headshots. The tank was very temporary, and as it began to move forward, John was forced to try something new. He rolled as soon as he had room, ending up in a shooting crouch. He fired four shots, dropping four men, and just as he had the fifth shot lined up, a sniper bullet smacked into his "shields", making reality flicker around him. John rolled backwards and spun as he did so, then, with swanlike grace, he leapt, and landed atop the tank, quickly manning the browning .50cal machine gun. He spun the weapon, and opened fired. The titanic rounds ripped into armor and blew gaping holes in the chest cavities of the unfortunate men. There was some vauge return fire, and snipers were pelting the tank, but the tank's momentum somehow kept john alive.  
  
Finally, the titanic weapon ran out of ammunition, forcing John to switch to the M60 that was mounted up next to the .50. However, it soon became fruitless. More helicopters, more men, and armored units were arriving. John dropped into the tank, pulling the hand gun, seeing as he had dropped the rifle when he leapt for the gunner's position. He pistol whipped the driver, and sat in his seat. John looked at the controls momentarily, and made some hastiy logical assumptions. He was half right. The tank lurched forward, but only on one tread, slowly turning him in a circle. John desperatly played with the controls until he got things right. He wasn't even going to begin thinking about firing the cannon, but driving a tank straight at an APC ought to get some attention.  
  
The much smaller APC driver tried to move, but the giant tank hit him head on as John clambered out of the top hatch. Slowly, the APC was crushed by the much heavier tank. John went sprinting, then dove, rolling down a long hill, gunshots tracing him a bit of the way down. Seconds later a huge explosion lit the night sky, a titanic fireball arcing into the air with a somewhat divine look about it. John didn't want to think about how many human's he'd just killed. Even if this all turned about to be some kind of dream, he doubted he would ever live it down. He stayed stock still at the bottom of the long roll down a hill, dizzy, and for the moment incapacitated. But soon it wore off, and he put a plan into motion.  
  
If he was correct about his armor's properties being transferred to him, he would be able to survive, somewhat indefinitly, submereged. John, using his excellent sense of direction, took off running in what he assumed would be the general direction of the river he had crossed. He would dive in, and bide his time while he figured things out. He ran for hours, finally beginning to notice his speed that the armor gave him. He ran, being chased by tanks, cars, APC's, and helicopters. But each time, he somehow got away for awhile. His plan to jump into the river and hide almost worked.  
  
John came around another bend to find the gigantic bridge in full view. And as he moved to climb over the railing, three boats came out of nowhere, and he was being peppered with small arms fire. John leapt down, and landed hard atop one of the patrol boats. The police men were caught totally off guard. John's weight caused him to break right through the boat and sink straight to the bottom of the river. This also quickly flodded and sunk the boat he had just "torpedo'd" but it definitly didn't leave him much in the way of options. He was however, impressed again by the response's of these people. Just as he hit the bottom, what could only be a Los Angles Class nuclear submarine went right over his head. 


	6. Out of Phase 6

The chief was...feeling some trepadation to say the least. Ground troops and tanks was one thing, but a Los Angles Class nuclear attack submarine was a whole diffrent story. One torpedo, detonating anywhere near him meant goodbye. He stood stock still, and the sub began to decelerate above him. And it was as he feared, divers were dispersing from multiple airlocks, armed with high pressure harpoon guns. His shields were tough, designed to withstand plasma, but those harpoons would go right through him at close range. They were moving quickly, the cheif focused on one, and surprisingly, the man became larger in his vision and more clear in a quick moment. The chief it assumed it was the magnification built into his armor's visor. What he saw next bothered him even more...pistols...small, but only one pistol he had ever read about fired underwater...and it was the infamous Glock.  
  
The chief had studied Glocks extensively as a personal hobby. There were many makes and models, but they were the best of their time, the most versatile hand gun ever created, in his opinion. They would fire up too twenty feet underwater...that was the effective range anyway. They were looking for him, that was for certian, but the cheif could't be seen by them. He pushed off the murky river bottom, and began to kick, the raw power of his legs combined with the amplified strength of MJOLINR sent him speeding towards the submarine. But to his aggrivation, they spotted him. A harpoon went sailing past his head, and the chief went into overdrive. He added his arms to his movement...arms that had enough strength to hurl a 66 ton scorpion tank. The chief blurred through the water, and approached the sub. The first hatch he found had remained open on the bottom, and for this the cheif was thankful. He swam into the airlock and pulled the hatch shut, hearing about five harpoons clang against it. He searched quickly until he located the controls for the pressure control.  
  
The room drained before his eyes, and a green light blinked, quickly followed by a sharp click of a lock. The hatch above opened and John climbed up. He would only have minutes before the alarm was raised, he had to work quickly. He had no idea where the bridge would be, but he guessed it would be near the tower protruding from the dorsal side of the submarine. He moved quickly and quietly, pausing once to knock out a sailor that was rather muscular and steel his uniform. Strange how his armor properties were only working to stop attacks. He moved quickly and purposefully, no longer worried about being questioned. He approached the bridge, knowing it was just that by the orders and how they were given. Not to mention the obvious "Captian, dive team one returning now, they say they lost contact as the target was going for the surface" someone said calmly. The chief had been ready to rush in and storm them with his hands and feet. But it appeared they thought he was on the surface, and if that was true, he might be able to hide among the crew for awhile.  
  
But when he heard the bolt of an M9 click, he knew that wasn't happening. "Hands up, now" the voice said simply, in a monotone. The cheif hadn't heard or felt him coming...sneaky bastard indeed. So he spun, and lashed out with his left leg. The blow could have cracked a concrete wall two feet thick with half that force. The man was launched backwards, all his ribs shattered, the force of the blow causing his heart to explode. The man landed twenty feet down the narrow corridor, and lay dead...minus the M9 pistol, wich lay in the chief's right hand. Now he was armed, and that made him oh so dangerous. But someone had heard the hard landing and the gun click, and the bridge hatch sealed itself shut. Fine, they wanted to play hardball, the cheif would play hardball. He turned, and began a hunt for the engine room.   
  
The alarm sounded halfway down the last ladder that would lead to the engine room. The chief dove in and rolled forward, then began to move. The hatches shut automatically as the general quarters alarm was sounded. The chief crew the M9 he had stuffed into his waistband and removed the safety. One guard came to investigate...so they were cautious...he was armed with an MP5, and wearing body armor with a helmet. The chief fired once, only once, and the man lost his right eye, falling dead to the ground. The chief picked up the MP5, and kept walking. Two more guards fell with holes in their faces as the cheif moved, fearlessly through the engine room. Finally, he found what he was looking for, the chief engineer...who tried to subdue him with a wrench to the head. The chief easily snapped the steel tool in half and hauled the man up by his collar. "If you want to live, you shut off all the lights on this submarine, now, kill everything except ventalation systems." the cheif ordered. The man looked nervous but didn't flinch. The chief raised the gun to his head...and then slowly pointed it towards the seemingly endless number of panels. "Do it, or I'll do it the hard way." he said. "Al...alright." the man said calmly. The chief let him go, and kept the gun trained on him.  
  
Minutes later, everylight in the submarine died, and the man fell down after the chief gave him a chop in the neck. He focused on letting his eyes adjust...and his night vision kicked in. He could see fine, everyone else was blind as a bat until the engineer woke up...wich wouldn't be for awhile. So the chief retraced his steps to the bridge, and with one simple strike, the door collapsed inwards. "Shit, what was that?" someone said...everyone was still at their stations, the captain and the important officers still standing. The cheif moved over to the captain and put the gun to his head. "This ship is now under control of the USMC, any attempts to overthrow this judgement will result in execution." he said in a monotone. "Are you out of your goddamned..." and he said no more as the chief pulled the trigger, blood spraying outwards, the captain falling dead. The gun then moved to the first officer. "This ship is now under my control" he said quietly. The man was choked up, angry and horrified, but not stupid. "Very well" he managed. The chief lowered the weapon. "Blow the main balast, now" he orderd.  
  
Slowly, in the darkness of 4 am, the Hudson River bubbled...and then, like a giant serpent arising from the depths, the ship surfaced. Com channels went nuts, and civil defense was nearly called in. Something was DEFEINITLY not right. One man had been placed in charge of all the millitary forces available to hunt the man down. The city was on lockdown, all civillians were to be kept indoors at all times, police were herding them in, and making sure that everyone stayed in, while the marines hunted for him. And now, a nuclear submarine had surfaced in the middle of the river. The general didn't have time to calculate and guess. If the man had control over a submarine, that meant nuclear warheads. "Sink them, now" he ordered coldly. Somewhere off the coast, a fleet of naval vessels recieved the order, and a cruise missile turret began to turn... 


	7. Out of Phase 7

The chief had an overwhelming sense of danger, something was definitly wrong. And when the consoles came on and the computers began to restart, he knew he was in for a world of shit. Three men had been sneaking up behind him, and two from either side. He had forgotten in his haste that most vessels of this size have plenty of back up systems. "Hell" he muttered, turning to face the men behind him with his pistol. A Styer M9, apparently 9X19MM as it read on the side. THe men stopped, but they all turned suddenly as an alarm went off. The captain swallowed and turned to the chief. "Listen, that alarm means we are under fire from a missile or torpedo of some kind. Let me act, please...there are nuclear warheads on this submarine!" he said, white faced. The chief considered briefly, then nodded. "Quickly" he said. The captain responded quickly with a loud. "Come about, dive the ship to maximum possible operations and take us out into the sea! Get us DOWN chief! DOWN!" he snapped. The cheif paused for a minute...then realized he meant the Cheif of the Watch, or something like it.  
  
The giant vessel slowly began to turn, and the cheif had no doubt that main power could be reengaged within seconds from here. And as it was, lights came back on to full brithness, the ship seemed to move with more urgency. And the next thing the chief knew, a sharp crack of a small arm rang out. The bullet would have hit him directly in the head, but his shields stopped it. He ducked, spun, and fired twice, the M9 snapping off two rounds, blowing two gaping holes in the would be assailants neck. He fell, gasping for breath, suffocating. The cheif ran over and shot him in the head, ending his suffering. But he had made his mistake. About five pistols were armed behind him, the man had sacraficed himself to get the chief in a tight spot. The chief slowly raised his hands. He knew that if they dropped his shields, the armor he wore was comprised of metals that only assault class weapons would break. These small 9mm bullets wouldn't do a thing, but anything heavier would.  
  
"Don't bother dropping the gun" someone said coldly. "We'll just blow your hand off, you BASTARD!" he screamed, giving away his intentions. The chief ducked, and fired, missing a little, but still hitting the mans thigh. He scooped up the fallen man he had shot, and used him for a human shield. However, John's chest was more like a barrel than a chest, so the sailor barely covered half of him, leaving his sides exposed for a sniper shot. Men were aiming for him, and he knew he needed to get off the sub. The missile would arrive within minutes, and he needed to clear out quickly. Bullets were one thing. Long range, high explosive warheads were another. So he fired once, the bullet punching into the captains head, blowing his brains all over the periscope, and then John ran. He would go to the airlock he came in through, and swim for shore downstream. The city was probablly being evacuated, or had already been evacuated while he was under water and in the submarine. The chief didn't care, because a shotgun shell blew sizzling bits of the metal railing he had slid down onto his back. The chief fired over his shoulder and heard a gurgle from a shot in the neck.  
  
The airlock opened easily, and the chief quickly slipped into the murky water of the river, sinking rapidly. He would hit the bottom, then march along the river bed for about one kilometer, surface, and then find a way out of the city. He hit the bottom in about a minute, and began his slow tramp through the muck and mud. Had it not been for his shields, he would have become stuck in the nasty bottom of whatever river this was. He noted with intrest, that there were sunken ships strewn here and there, all sorts of litter, and strange things...such as bodies that had been thrown in, obviously to conceal a murder. He found it amusing, to find all the things below. One kilometer dissapeared, and the chief pushed off the bottom, and swam for the surface. His head broke to reveal a slowly rising sun. A helicopter was hovering about a mile south of him, a large, twin rotary helicopter that the chief identified as a Chinook. Men were parachuting from it...heavily armed men...and oddly enough, there was a fire fight going on. What the hell was happeneing?  
  
The chief stared for a minute, and his vision seemed to leap forward. The answer was simple, and it was that the city was under siege by terrorists, armed with a plethora of diffrent weapons. Some had M4 carbines, some had AK's, a few had large support weapons, such as one man with a famous RPK weapon. The chief spotted a sniper, wielding the equally notorious SVD sniper rifle. The defenders however, were much better supported with armor and air AND river support...but with a cruise missile now visible in the distance...the chief doubted the river support would last much longer. The chief swam over to the river bank, and clambered out. Apparently, an entire of army was swarming the city, or a full scale rebellion was on his hands. Firefights were everywhere, muzzle flashes, tracer rounds, and shell casings in the streets. The chief checked his chrono...the kilometer march underwater had taken alot more time than he'd thought.  
  
Suddenly, bullets smacked into the ground around his feet. A man yelled something in a strange language, and more shots rang out. The chief had been identified as a defender, and was now under fire from these terrorists. He sprinted for cover behind a car, and bullets traced him. A large group of men with unruly looking, ancient weapons were firing on him. The chief didn't recognize most of the guns, but the AK74 sound was unmistakeable. Heavy rounds punched into metal as the chief popped up for a shot. The M9's slide smashed backwards, and a bullet flew through the air towards a third story window. There was silence for a moment, then a body, armed with an AK74, fell to the street. John fired twice more, and two more bodies dropped, and as he turned to fire another shot at another building, the M9 clicked empty, and he was effectivly unarmed. He tossed the rather sleek looking pistol, and braced himself to take hits. John leapt over the car, and sprinted at his full speed, the ground dissapearing under his feet. He reached the assault rifle and the man's body, and picked up both. Bullets chewed up the cement, and smacked into his shielding as he moved again. The chief smasehd into a wall like a football player, the blocks of cement crumbling beneath his titan strength. More bullets flew, and one managed to shatter a window, spraying glass all over him. It was at this moment, that a stun grenade flew in through the windows...the chief dropped, but it was too late, a loud bang went off, his shields failed, and his conciousness went right along with it. "...Can you hear me!? CHIEF! CHIEF!" the woman was screaming again. Why did she always have to scream? Would she ever just shut up and do her job? But it was unprofessinal and immoral to be rude to women. "Cortana?" the chief said lightly. "Chief! You're alive! You can hear me, can't you? Whats wrong with you, get up! More..." and then the world when white again, and he was in an office. Strange...he had been staring at the snow a minute ago, along with a dead elite in a pile of its purple blood. He groaned and rubbed his head. Then memory came flooding back. He was about to move, when a rather large gun barrel was shoved into his face...the barrel of an M60 light machine gun. There was a young arabic looking man, if arabic was the correct term, holding the giant weapon, his hands stained in blood. The chief sat still as he waved the gun and motioned for him to rise. He did so slowly, and the AK was taken from him. Several bolts cycled, and a circle of men took aim... 


	8. Out of Phase 8

But the chief wasn't about to just die helplessly. He dove forward and flipped off the man's body, spinning as he rolled behind a desk. Amazingly no one fired as the man groaned, but they all took aim. The chief had no time to play games, and he raised only the barrel and jammed on the trigger of the odd looking rifle he had stolen from the gunman. The weapon had surprising recoil, and heavy bullets kicked out as he blind fired. He heard the impacts, heard them yelling in pain, heard the blood splatter against all nature of things, but most of all, he heard death. The clip ran dry and the chief dropped the gun. He got up and found all but one of them dead, the lone survivor whispering in some language the chief didn't understand, clutching his badly bleeding legs. The chief could tell the man was in a great deal of pain...so he kicked him in the face.  
  
The force of the blow snapped the man's spine like a twig under a hammer, and the head fell into a horribly disfigured position. More gunfire was heard outside; some kind of uprising was going on? He wasn't sure what the deal was, but he did know that a cruise missile could possibly be coming to hit the city, and that was BIG trouble. However, the chief was fairly sure it had been a bluff to get him to surrender. John scooped up the M60, and grinned. It was fully loaded, and in good condition and the gracious giver of such a powerful weapon was also packing a six shot .357 magnum, or so it appeared to be. The words "King Cobra" were written on the side of the weapon, along with a smaller word: "Colt". The chief couldn't recall what company that was, but the weapon packed enough power to blow limbs clean off with a good shot. He tucked it into his waistband, and hefted the LMG, peeking out the windows before he moved. The street seemed to be clear, but it was a bad idea to take chances, especially when the gunfire was drawing closer.  
  
The exchanges of fire in the background were also intensifying, the firefight was escalating, and judging by the sound, the main battle was shifting towards him as each side called up reinforcements onto their flanks. He was just about to run out to an overturned bus, when a burst of bullets ripped into a nearby building...followed by a few explosives that turned out to be 40mm grenades. The building was there one minute, the next, a whole floor had been immolated. Men came running out screaming in agony, seeing as their bodies were on fire. The chief screwed up his face. "Incendiary rounds...not good", He said to himself. The men were running closer, and the chief opened up with the M60. The massive weapon began spitting hot lead, and bodies began to fall. A smattering of rounds chewed up one mans torso, nearly removing his left arm, the stray rounds that penetrated sinking into another man's sternum. Blood was sprayed across the street as the chief walked his fire across another man's burning body, leaving him with four massive holes in his chest. The chief let go of the trigger, and examined the kills. Five men down, and he assumed that more would be along soon, whoever was after them anyway. The chief was obviously in the middle of a major battle. He ran back to the bodies, grabbed all the guns he could, and stockpiled them by the window. He was going to have to bunker in and hope for the best.  
  
They had been shot by a sniper with an automatic weapon. That was obvious enough, but who had shot them was anyone's guess. Sergeant Jack Horner was crouched behind a damaged building, peeking around the corner. No one was supposed to be in this area. Someone could have gotten separated, but he didn't like it, it didn't make sense. He watched them die, the man had been impossibly accurate with every shot he fired; every bullet hit someone. The streets were running dark red as the blood leaking from the bodies drained slowly into the sewers. Horner's orders were to lead his squad around the back of the enemy line by flanking them wide on the right, sneak over to their command center and then basically kill everything that wasn't waving a white flag.   
  
Finally, he couldn't wait any longer, and he waved the men forward. In a single file line, they all started moving out, in half crouches, weapons sweeping windows and doors. Nothing happened, but out of nowhere, John felt the hairs on his neck raise. Instinctively, he dropped. Sheer luck it seemed, as heavy rounds went sailing over his head, chewing into a cinder block wall of what was once a street store. Everyone else went prone, looking around franticly for a target. The shots had come from their left, and it was the same weapon, M60 from the sound of it. "HOLY SHIT WHERE IS HE!?" someone yelled. "Stay calm...", Horner responded, searching, trying to hurry as he sensed his men beginning to panic. "We can't stay here man, he's gonna mow us down, we gotta move!" a younger soldier said. "Stay put Jackson, that's an order! You hear me Goddamnit!?" he yelled back. "This is asinine! Cover me!" Jackson shouted. He took aim for an instant and sprayed fire from his M4 in the general direction of the sniper. The rest of the team opened up, all with Horner yelling for them to hold their fire. Lead flew, and Jackson stood. He ran about seven feet before a single shot rang out, and his brains were laying in the street. The next few moments were hazy to Horner, shocked by the brutality and skill of the sniper.  
  
When Jack finally got a hold of himself, the rest of his team was dead laying next to Johnson. Blood was everywhere, it looked like they had tried to carry him out of the line of fire, and then drag him from the prone position. The sniper shot each one of them in the head, toying with them. Jack knew he hadn't moved, he knew it, but something else was on his mind suddenly, and seconds later he retched onto the pavement, disgusted at the brutality of the enemy. Slowly, Jack wiped his mouth as he stood, then slowly began backing away. After a few steps, he turned and ran, but not away, he cornered sharply and a few feet later he cornered again. The alley was empty, and he slowly began heading through it. He was going to kill that sniper, then complete his mission, one way or another.   
  
The chief continued to look around; there was at least one more that was staying put. He'd shot the rest of them, headshots all, trying to make it a quick death. That's when he heard the man flee, and figured he was retreating for reinforcements. The chief lowered the M60, and pulled the .357 revolver. He sucked in his breath and slowly moved into the street. The chatter of gunfire was ever present, but it wasn't getting closer. He moved slowly across the two lanes, and reached the site of the bodies. As quickly as he could, one hand on his mouth, he threw as many M4's as he could carry onto his shoulder, and quickly dropped them back where his small "stockpile" of weapons was. Then, he returned to the bodies, and started picking anything useful off of their corpses. Ammunition, grenades, and anything else that might serve a purpose...like the rather shiny combat knife on one soldier's chest.  
  
The chief was actually very lucky, because one of the men had a uniform that looked as if it might fit him. He grabbed the guy's body and dragged him back into the building he was using as a makeshift bunker. He stripped the man of his BDU and armor, and quickly changed. It felt a lot better to be wearing extra armor and a BDU rather than the scant, dirty hospital garb. The chief was just tucking the .357 into his waistband along with the 2 M9's that he had taken, when he heard a door in the back be kicked in. He reached down and picked up an M4, setting it for single shot. That one man who he thought had fled was obviously back, the chief was almost impressed, but it was just luck that he assumed otherwise.  
  
The chief moved slowly, crouching behind desks. The building was small, and the man was nearby, he heard footsteps and floorboards creaking. Slowly, from around a half-wall, the chief saw the muzzle of his weapon coming around. He took aim, waiting, but then it receded. The chief was confused, until he heard a snap...instantly the answer obvious; the man had dropped a grenade. The Chief leapt up and ran for a staircase, and charged up it just as loud explosion tore into his eardrums. The chief pushed the pain aside and tried to hear through the ringing as he crouched halfway up the steps, aiming at the bottom. A few seconds later, he saw the man whip around the corner to the stairs. Both of them reacted perfectly. The chief fire two snap shots just as the man whirled back around the corner, the bullets hitting only wood. The chief moved too the far right side, trying for a footshot, but had to postpone it when the man blind-fired a burst into the wall just above his head. The chief retreated up the stairs and ducked behind a desk, waiting...


	9. Out of Phase 9

Sergeant Horner was very nervous. He'd never seen someone move so quickly and fire so fast. The man's reaction time was flawless, he was a sniper, was at least an expert on 3 weapon systems, and was smart as hell. Horner licked his lips and whirled into the stair case, ready to fire a burst. The stairs were empty, he'd retreated up further. John slowly climbed higher, his heart pounding, a little voice in his head telling him he should just head to the objective, that one man wasn't worth dying over, but at the same time another one was telling him it was his sacred duty to avenge his comrades. He licked his lips and took the first step up. Slowly, as quietly as he could he moved up the stairs, making very little noise as he ascended. He made a turn and flew around, firing a single shot and hitting nothing but air. Bursts of gunfire were once again getting closer, the battle was shifting, the third recon group was putting out some heavy fire when they set out, but most of the weapons were sounding non-American now.   
  
Jack cleared the last step, and found himself in an office area, cubicles were everywhere. He swallowed, that man could have him sighted right now...and could popup from any cubicle at any moment, and Jack wouldn't have time to react. For a brief minute, Jack thought of dropping a grenade, but that would only serve to disorient him and give his enemy time to change positions while he was taking cover for the blast, he'd tried explosives already. He licked his lips again, and fixed his combat knife onto the barrel of his M4 as a bayonet. Jack slowly began stalking forward in a half crouch, and began to sweep and clear the cubicles. This particular building had about five floors, and the man could have made it too the top by now. Jack had cleared the first row of cubicles when he stubbed his toes on something. In alarm, he leapt back and took aim...directly at another M4 carbine. The man had abandoned his weapon, which was very odd. He knelt too examine it. The clip was still locked and loaded, the M203 was intact, it all checked out...except for the fact that the Armies from the north of New York usually carried AK's.   
  
Horner moved to disarm the weapon when he heard a floorboard creek behind him, and instantly he realized his mistake. It was a distraction, and it had worked. He leapt to his feet and spun, firing as he went on full auto. The bullets punched into the wall with piston like force, blowing dust and splinters of wood everywhere, chewing holes into the walls and cubicles. Computer screens exploded, and Jack ceased fire, panting from the spook, but not seeing any signs he'd hit anything. He turned to his right to face the majority of the cubicles, and jammed on the trigger, moving the gun around from left to right, spraying searing hot fists of lead across the room, daring anything to move. The clip clicked empty, and Jack hurried through a reload. Just as he was about to cycle the bolt, he heard a hammer lock behind him, and the words: "Don't move" told him that he had been out maneuvered. He didn't move...waiting for the man to say something. Just as he heard the man begin to speak, he whirled through a slash with the bayonet. Before he could complete the turn, an uppercut hit him squarely in the bottom of his chin.  
  
The chief stepped back and retook his aim with the pistol. The man had held onto his rifle somehow, but he was definitely dazed, the chief wanted to incapacitate him and find out just why there was such a huge fire fight going on in such a populated area. The man was dizzy, but somehow, he managed to drop his rifle while pulling the combat knife off of the end. He got a hold of himself and charged forward with a yell, obviously intending to stab the chief in the throat. At the last instant, the chief turned sideways and lunged, jamming his shoulder into the man's sternum like a football player. He heard him gasp as the wind was knocked clean out of him, and then watched him fly backwards about five feet before landing hard on his back. The chief holstered the pistol, and began walking over to the man. He appeared totally dazed as the chief leaned over him...which was only his first mistake. Apparently, the man was a great actor, because the chief felt his legs swept from under him, and simultaneously a blow to his groin...that thankfully missed and struck the inside of his thigh. He staggered backwards, off balance, and the soldier came at him again, rushing forward, his eyes slightly glazed.  
  
The first slash went wide as the chief dodged; the second caught him in the shoulder however. Pain was the last thing the chief expected to feel however, and he could tell that blood had been drawn from a luckily shallow slash. It was very strange, his shields were absorbing bullets but not melee attacks? The injury however, would have been minor, even to a standard human, not to mention a Mark V Spartan warrior. The chief retailed, stepping it up a notch. The straight punch slammed into the man's chest with enough force to punch through a warthog's armor plating. He heard something snap loudly and the man flew backwards into the far wall, which was about thirty feet away. The chief drew his side arm and moved towards him. He was groaning, obviously in pain, and definitely confused, it wasn't every day you had someone punch you with enough force to launch you 20 feet backwards. Still, the chief was wary, the blow had snapped something, but it didn't sound like a bone, and this man was quite cunning.  
  
He seemed totally stunned, but the chief couldn't be sure, you could never be to sure. He kept the .357 aimed directly at his right ventricle as he approached. The chief squatted, and with one hand, reached out and policed his side arm, grenade, and combat knife. Then, he hauled him to his feet and shook him. "Are you hurt?" he asked bluntly. The man hazily turned his head to look at the chief, his eyes glazed. "...Ribs" he gasped out. John placed his hands on the man's sides gently, feeling for injuries. He detected none, but they were most likely bruised. "You'll be fine" he said simply. The chief was about to start asking him questions, when a loud explosion caught his attention outside. He swore under his breath. The battle had apparently shifted again, and heavy fighting was going on in the streets. Men shouting, guns firing, people dying...all not unfamiliar to the chief. His attention shifted, and he scooped up both of the M4's he had. The firing was intensifying, and he heard people running outside. He stepped over to a window, and was instantly worried. A rather...massive group of men in different uniforms than the captured soldier had on were crouching and standing behind any cover they could find in the street, ranging from overturned busses to burning cars to the corner of a building, every man occasionally popping out to fire off a burst, before ducking long streams of tracers.  
  
The chief felt a pang of remorse...it appeared the men he had shot earlier had been defenders of the city he was in. _Friendly fire_...the thought was rather tormenting, but the chief pushed it aside...he needed information...but this was not the time to get it, for now, he needed to get clear of the area, and interrogate his "prisoner". The thought of the man made him suddenly spin...but it was too late, the man was holding one of the M9's in his hand, and aiming it right at the chief's forehead.  
  
Jack squeezed the trigger without hesitation, and kept pulling it. He fired all 15 rounds...and was horrified to find the man unscathed. A look of absolute terror came across his face, and he dropped the pistol, stepping backwards. "What...what the fuck _are you!?_" he asked, afraid. The giant man didn't move, didn't attack...in fact, he almost looked like he felt guilty about something. "My name is John." He said simply. "I...owe you an apology, one that I doubt you will be able to accept...more than one in fact...I believe the number is 5." He said sounding rather solemn. Jack was still wide eyed, but no longer in terror, in fascination. This man who could kill him at a moment's notice was _apologizing for killing his men!_ Jack just blinked, in shock, he had seen too much in one day to even think straight. The world seemed to haze up, and then his eyes rolled up into his head as his body finally gave up.  
  
John moved like a lightning bolt and caught the man from falling. He was alarmed by the how much he weighed, it just seemed unnatural...it was then he discovered that the man was wearing a chest plate of Kevlar/titanium armor...the chief grimaced, he had thought that military forces didn't start using armor again until later on for this time period...but then again he had no idea where or when he was. The chief stopped dwelling on the subject when stray bullets began hitting the windows. He would get information later...for now, a plan had formed in his mind. He dropped the assault rifle, and pulled out the .357 weapon. He easily hefted the man in his powerful left arm, and put his plan into motion. He took two steps back, and charged right at the second floor window. Seconds later, he crashed through it, taking much of the wall with him. As he flew through the air, he fired a shot from the magnum. The heavy round crashed into someone's face and blew a gaping hole in his forehead, the force of the round blowing his body backwards a foot or so. The second shot he got off blew someone's kneecap clean off, dropping the man screaming. He landed in the street and rolled, firing the last four rounds, each bullet striking its target. When the pistol ran dry, he hurled it with close to his maximum strength. Arms that could flip a scorpion tank through the air hurled the light weapon, the barrel embedding itself in the ribcage of one of the attackers, the man falling to his knees with shock on his face. The chief kept a firm grip on the unconscious form of the soldier he had incapacitated, and started sprinting for the cover of an over turned taxi.  
  
From his position, the sniper had watched the whole thing, and he could literally find no words for what just happened. It had been physically impossible. The north side had their soldiers wear heavy armor and carry a lot of equipment, where as the south side's armor protected little more than modesty. The man had made two kills in _midair_ while carrying an armored soldier _in one arm_. Impossible, but none the less it happened. Now, he was pinned down by South NY soldiers. The north was pushing forward, trying to get someone to them, but the gunfight was a stalemate for the moment. The sniper tracked his crosshairs over to where a squad of men was holding, trying to get to "superman" and the wounded one. One man kept peeking out, trying to pick people off with his M16A2. The sniper waited for the perfect moment, then fired a single bullet, blowing the man's skull open through his eye. He tracked the site away, noticing movement somewhere else. What he saw next amazed him even further. It was the soldier who had done the impossible, loading a sidearm...he popped up...and the sniper literally gasped as he watched him cap off all 15 rounds in less than six seconds with the semi-automatic pistol. To add insult to injury, it seemed all 15 shots had been kills. He moved back to the man's position, intending to kill him, and noticed that he was aiming right at...  
  
A window crashed somewhere behind the main line of what the chief had determined was the "enemy" force. The sniper fell down to the street, and if he hadn't been dead before he most certainly was now. The battle was intensifying, and each side had a continual flow of reinforcements moving up to the front. The chief hated being pinned, but it seemed it would half to do. He reloaded the M9 and leapt up, his finger commanding death in a well practiced manner...  
  
Author's Note  
  
Sorry it took so long, my senior year in High School just began -.-  
and, I'm having my hours blown everywhere at work  
  
So be patient, I'll get em out as fast as I can, thanks and keep up the R/R!!! Thanks,  
  
ChaosValkyire  



	10. Out Of Phase 10

_He has the worth breath I've ever smelled in the entirety of my life_. That was the chief's first thought as the interrogator got in his face to look him in the eye. "Alright...lets get started. Name, Rank, ID number." The officer said. John cleared his throat. "Lieutenant John Spartan, number one hundred and sixteen." He said clearly. The interrogator just sort of blinked at him. "One sixteen? Is that supposed to be a joke?" he said sounding irritated. John responded firmly. "Sir, no sir, I am stating my identification number as ordered", he said slowly. The interrogator stared at him for a minute, and then exhaled heavily. "Well, that's not too important right now; we'll get to it later. What we do need to know is where you came from, why weren't you with your squad, because we _know_ that you weren't with Horner's unit. The General hand picked those guys himself, every last one of them...so what's your deal?" he asked in an accusing whisper.  
  
The chief lowered his head. "Alright, I guess I've got nothing to loose. I panicked, sir. We were moving up the left side to reinforce the main lines, and someone had bounced a hand grenade...it exploded right in one of my men's faces, took his head clean off. In all the combat time I've seen...I don't know what happened, something inside of me snapped...I ran, blindly ran, like a coward." He said, trying his best to feign shame. The two guards in the room were looking rather alarmed, as was the interrogator. "You...ran off..." the interrogator said, almost in disbelief. "Well...sir...I'm not in the army really...I'm...a freelancer, mercenary, whatever you want to call me...but I just wanted to fight for what I believe in...and...now I'm here..." the chief trailed off, growing nervous. The interrogator was about to say something else when three men burst into the room. "Sir, I'm afraid you're under arrest. Come with me please." He said gesturing towards the door.  
  
The chief could only assume that the man he'd "rescued" had come around and told his superiors about what had happened with his men in the office. The chief was getting a worse and worse feeling about being here; he needed to get out of the immediate area. "What's going on?" he said innocently, standing up slowly, deciding playing dumb and cooperating would probably be the best idea for the moment. "Sir...you are under suspect for a case of...deliberate friendly fire. Please come with me...oh...and I'll need your sidearm sir." The man said, extending his hand. The chief handed it too him gently, trying to look confused, and then began following the two guards in front of him as the third man took up the rear. They walked for a good ten minutes before the chief was dragged into a gigantic helicopter...the biggest he'd ever seen...it was a model he didn't recognize, but it was massive...at least six rotors, 100 feet in length, multiple heavy machine gun positions, and numerous small arms ports, as well as rocket pods, auto targeting mini-guns, and heavy missiles.  
  
The Chief had never felt so close to death, it was almost as if it was tangible, like he could reach out and lay the palm of his hand across the cold, killer metals of the hull. The chief hadn't even noticed he'd paused until he felt a sharp point, what could only be a bayonet, against his back, right on top of where his kidney was. "Move, now" the soldier said. Amazingly, he was being pushed onto the helicopter from the back loading ramp, which was obviously used to drop small jeeps or reconnaissance vehicles of sorts. The few men surrounded him, and the hatch quickly began to shut. The chief knew what was next; he'd been trained, somewhat brutally, on how to resist torture methods of almost all kinds. It was one of his basic combat survival instincts on how to take a blow so that it inflicted the minimum amount of pain and damage to his body. The chief tried to loosen up and relax, but he knew he was in store for quite a beating. The problem was, he couldn't resist, or they'd start using knives, bayonets, or other nasty melee weapons. The hatch clicked shut, and a single overhead lamp came on. The chief felt the guards around him, sensed their every movement. He even sensed the first rifle butt that slammed into his spinal column. He grunted slightly, trying to make it sound real, and pretended to stagger forward. Another one slammed onto his shoulder, the force mostly absorbed by his shielding, but he dropped onto one knee, and started to get up.  
  
The next blow was firmer, the man who attacked obviously stronger. The rifle butt smashed into the side of his head. The chief grabbed his face as he fell to one side, hoping against hope that they wouldn't see through his deceit. The blows continued, this time a boot to his gut. The chief did his best gasp for air and grabbed at his stomach while simultaneously widening his eyes. The next hit, however, didn't require any acting. His shields had failed under the pounding, and the rifle butt to his ribs sent pain searing up his side. He grunted again and rolled as boots and rifle butts rained down on him. The chief rolled into the fetal position and sucked in his breath, letting his mind drift. He forced himself not to feel the pain, forced himself not to taste the blood in his mouth, and forced himself not to cry out, keeping his jam clamped firmly. They must have beaten him for at least an hour; the chief had lost track of time completely. When he finally came too, and let his mind "reconnect" to his nerves, he noticed he was alone in a cell. Suddenly, all the pain he hadn't felt flowed back to him, and he cried out in agony, before rolling off the small, hard cot he had been placed on.  
  
Memory slowly flooded back, memory of the interrogator...and when he had denied it all as an accident, they beat him some more. The chief had sworn time and again it was an accident, and finally, they had given up and sent him too this cell. His body was stiff and sore, and bruises were forming, but otherwise, he felt fine, no bones broken, no ruptured organs, he was fine, if not uncomfortable. The chief somehow managed to stand, and realized something was wrong. He was in a cell, but the cell felt like it was _moving_. The chief turned to look through the barred window...and it hit him. He was in a cell in that massive helicopter he'd seen...well, it appeared to be a small arms port converted into a holding cell...perhaps a weakness he could exploit later. The door was locked, and judging from the noise it gave when he pushed on it, also padlocked. Either way, the chief could kick it down without any effort. Just he was about too, the lock clicked open and the interrogator entered with his best cheesy smile displayed. The door clicked shut and the chief feigned fear and backed into the corner. He heard the lock slide into place...and he struck. The speed and power his armor granted him made him too fast for the man to even track. Before his brain could even register that the chief was moving, he caught the chief's piston like fist in his face.  
  
A dull thump sounded through the cell as the man landed hard against the opposite wall. John quickly stripped him, and changed clothing from a BDU to the gray outfit of the interrogator. He pulled the cap all the way down, and changed the man into the BDU, then put him face down on the bed. Now, he would have to do some more acting...  
  
The prisoner was screaming again...he had a silly girlish scream...he'd been yelling in pain for the past thirty minutes, he must have been a tough cookie. The two guards in front of the holding cell didn't care what happened to him. If they didn't have the information they wanted when they arrived over the drop zone...there would be no recovery operation. If they did...they'd shoot him on the way down. He snickered at the thought. Suddenly the familiar two taps on the door signaled him to let the interrogator out. He quickly undid the deadbolt, one hand on his pistol just incase...not really thinking that he'd ever need to use it, and opened the door. The last thing he saw for a long time was a big black combat boot.  
  
The chief finished sealing the door, locking both unconscious men inside. He'd done better than he thought, he was disguised and armed. Now, he had to find the control area of the helicopter/ship and commandeer it. He wasn't quite sure where he was, but he new which direction to head from the way the clouds had been passing the small barred window. The chief headed right and went through a narrow hallway, ending at a large pressure door that was labeled **COMMAND SECTION**. He wasn't sure what the significance was, but it appeared that the helicopter could split into two air capable vessels. The chief pushed a button and the door opened. A single guard looked him over briefly, and then waved him through nonchalantly. The chief passed him by and kept moving forward until he came to a small ladder with the word "cockpit" at its base. He grabbed the ladder and climbed up. Two men were flying the vehicle, or so it seemed. A small light was blinking and as the chief focused on it; he noticed the words "AUTOPILOT ENGAGED" underneath. He pulled the pistol and cocked the weapon by pulling back the slide.  
  
The two men spun around...and found a rather large, disgruntled man holding a weapon. One of them looked nervous for a moment...then laughed. "Oh shit, you scared me...you get what you need out of him yet?" he asked. The chief lowered the weapon, suddenly understanding. "No, I've never met a man who can resist my 'methods'" the chief responded in a low whisper, trying to hide his voice. The co-pilot snorted. "Oh well...he's dead anyway. We'll be over the drop zone in about ten minutes, our gunners are on full alert, so don't worry about a thing. When they tested this chopper, it took four hits from heavy missiles to bring down the shielding." The man said proudly. The pilot grinned even bigger. "Yeah, its like something out of that game I used to play...Halo or something...everybody had laser shields and shit...weird that it's a reality now." The man said. The chief blinked. "Well, I need to relieve myself, inform me when we're within one minute of the drop zone." He said, turning on his heel after a salute and a chorus of "yessirs!"  
  
Five minutes later, an alarm went off. A few seconds after that, an explosion rocked into the helicopter. The chief dashed to a window and looked out...to see a swarm of smaller helicopters with guns blazing circling the giant vehicle he was on. Memory kicked in as he thought of all the runs he'd done with Foe-Hammer. He could almost hear her voice. "L.Z is hot boys, so get ready, here we go!"  
Unfortunately, his thoughts were interrupted by an assault rifle being pressed against his back.  
  
Authors Note  
  
Goddamn guys, I'm so sorry...Mother Nature must be on PMS this year, yet ANOTHER hurricane is heading right for where I live, so my next update might take awhile...I apologize for the delay, but there's nothing I can do...take care, and thanks a million for the reading and reviewing...tell your friends ;-)


	11. Out of Phase 11

The chief decided that there was no time to mess around any more. He turned around and fired into the mans kneecap before he could even get a shot off. The man was screaming in agony from what had to be one of the most painful places to be shot. The chief didn't want to waste any more ammo, deciding he might need it for his next trick. He summoned up the strength he had used so many times on the battlefield to flip over vehicles that had taken a wrong turn...he could flip a 66 ton tank through the air like nothing. He brought forth this strength now, and did a simple straight punch. His fist smashed into the man's face, and his head was suddenly indented in a nearby bulkhead with blood gushing out of it. The chief turned, and ran down the corridor, heading for where he guessed the loading bay would be. After descending a ladder or two, he ended up right where he needed to be, a massive cargo hold that had two jeeps, each with parachute sleds attached. He found the controls quickly, and opened the bay. The smaller helicopters were still spitting fire, but the tide was about to turn, IF his plan worked.  
  
For a moment, he paused, wondering what Cortana might say if she knew what he was about to attempt. He grabbed the back of one of the parachute sleds, and started pushing. Slowly, it slid forward, and soon the chief felt it tip over the edge. Then, he was falling, and his stomach leapt into his throat. Using his massive strength, he pulled himself forward, and somehow found an emergency chute release. He yanked the cord, and his motion was almost instantly redirected. His stomach left his throat, and seemed to enter his groin as inertia took its toll. But the desired effect had been achieved; one small helicopter was swooping down to investigate. The pilot wasn't too bad; he came close enough to notice John hanging onto the side, and for a brief moment, wasn't sure if he was hallucinating or not. The next thing he knew, the man in an interrogator's uniform _leapt off _the side of the jeep and _smashed into the helicopter through the co-pilots window!_ He turned to look...and a boot took him squarely in the chin, with enough force to snap his spine clean through, leaving his head dangling by the skin and muscles.  
  
The helicopter began to tumble out of control, but John grabbed the stick in front of him and mashed the pedals, slowly bringing it out of its death-spin. Finally he had control, and began ascending. Soon, he had reached the desired altitude, and dropped the helicopter into hover. The others were simply tailing along and taking potshots at the massive super-copter. It seemed to be protected by some sort of invisible screening that neither missiles nor auto targeting mini-guns could penetrate. John examined the firing controls briefly, flicked a few switches, and pushed the button down. Every single missile, rocket, and machine gun on his copter opened fire. The result was the biggest close-up, most highly explosive fireworks show he'd ever seen. The heat seeking missiles plowed into the other helicopters, and detonated instantly. The resulting explosion took about three nanoseconds to detonate the fuel cells, which resulted in secondary explosions, which tore the hulls apart from the inside until all the energy blasted the hulls outward in all directions. In short, John blew them up...gracefully.  
  
One of the smaller choppers took a grazing hit from a rocket, and the heat seeker missed, circling around for another try. However, the pilot lost control, and his vehicle slammed into the energy screening of the super-chopper. For a few brief seconds, it was as if the vehicle had just stopped on top of nothing in midair. Then, the shielding gave way, and the burning hulk slammed into the super structure of the giant airship. Somehow, nothing exploded, or even caught on fire. Then, the heat seeker re-acquired its target, and slammed into the wreck. The resulting explosion was massive, and detonated something inside the massive airship that the chief was watching slowly head north. More secondary explosions came from within, and slowly, the vessel began to loose power. Impossibly, the forward section separated...then, something flashed out of the top of the dying section as it suddenly began to plummet...and the chief had an incoming missile.  
  
The chief had no time to even bother trying to evade, he turned around, saw what he wanted, and grabbed it before leaping out the side of the chopper. One second after he leapt, the missile hit, and the chopper exploded...and he was falling...blackness overcame him as he tumbled out of control.  
  
Author's Notes  
  
Wow, I'm still alive after that BS...my porch...is gone, and I'm on a library computer which appears to be on borrowed time as it is. Sorry this couldn't be longer, but hey, still no power, much less DSL service, should be back soon tho. Goddammit!


	12. Out of Phase 12

Wind blew past his hair as he fell, the earth rushing up to meet him. Death got closer by the second, but the chief was powerless to resist it. His eyes were shut, his body stunned from the force of the explosion. He plummeted towards the ground, free falling out of control. But somehow, he recovered, his body regained control of itself, and the Chief shook the affects off. His first instinct was to slow his fall, and he spread his arms and legs, to create enough aerial friction as he could. The speed reduced, but it would never be enough to keep him alive when he hit the ground. The chief scanned the quickly approaching landscape for any signs of deep water. He sighted what he needed, a VERY large lake that stood near the outskirts of what looked like an abandoned farm from his altitude. He pointed his body at it, and pulled his legs and arms in tight. His speed increased as he shot like a human bullet towards the lake. The chief could only hope that the water was as deep as it appeared.

When he was centered over the lake, he spread himself open again to keep the speed of his fall down. The ground was getting very close now, and the surface of the water was a murky blue, rippling as if daring him to miss his mark. At the last instant, the chief flipped in midair, so he was dropping vertically, as if he'd stepped off some stairs. He clenched his legs and buttocks, pulled his arms in close to his sides and pointed his toes and braced himself for broken ribs. Fortunately, his entry was perfect. There was a huge splash and the friction was incredible as his fall was abruptly discontinued. The chief summoned all the power his armor could supply to his legs, and kicked hard. Instantly, his sinking motion slowed, and he bobbed up to the surface. He looked around briefly to get his bearings, and then began to swim towards the north shore of the lake. He had been lucky, the lake was only about 20 feet deep at the very center, had he not kicked, he would have snapped every bone in his legs when he hit the bottom.

The sand was soft, but it held his weight and he tromped out of the water that was presumably cold, his shields keeping him from feeling the full effect. The chief had no idea where he was now, much less why the people that were now another enemy had elected to fly headlong into this territory. He had over heard several musings about dropping him somewhere and "no recovery operation" but that didn't matter. He now had one goal. Get out of the country, and presumably, survive. If he couldn't find a way to "wake up" he was going to make sure he never had too. The chief just kept walking, minutes turning into endless hours, hours turning into nearly a day. He guessed that it was about 2:00AM when something caught his attention…his foot stepping on a land mine. The chief stood perfectly still, and waited. He held his breath and counted to ten, and the weapon still hadn't detonated. That gave him a few options. He could just leap straight up, well out of range of the knee height blast that would go off, but give him away. He could also attempt to dig the mine up and disarm it, but that would be very difficult given the circumstances. The chief decided that since neither "army" would be ideal for allies, which he didn't care. He leapt up, and the land mine exploded, spraying shrapnel everywhere.

An alarm went off in the distance, and search lights began to click on, followed by men shouting. The chief let go of the branch he grabbed, and fell down to the ground, landing in a crouch. He summoned his full strength and ran forward as fast as he could. The tall grass was almost as tall as him, but his head was still exposed. It didn't matter though, because unless the searchlights hit his head, he would be practically invisible. But it appeared he had underestimated his opponents, who were all well equipped with night vision and long range rifles. A bullet smacked into his shielding, and he dropped, rolling to his right. Bullets peppered the ground as multiple snipers and riflemen showered the area. The chief slowly crawled forward in the prone position, his arms pulling him along through the grass, bullets peppering the area around him. He kept crawling, until he heard the familiar thump of mortars, then leapt to his feet and shot forward. The soldiers with small arms didn't have time to track him, as he blurred forward and took cover against the wall of the fort.

The mortar rounds exploded seconds later, blowing gaping holes in the earth and setting the grass on fire. The chief calculated briefly, and moved to a gunnery towers wall. He leapt once, and sunk his fingers into the reinforced, titanium coated concrete as if it were butter. He hauled himself up to the sniper's tower, appearing suddenly before the lone man's scope. The soldier didn't have time to blink before the chief punched his hand _through_ the sniper's face. Blood, bone, and bits of grey matter exploded onto the chiefs shields, and slid down to hit the floor, a waterfall of blood spilling down the man's BDU.  
The chief policed his sniper's rifle, which appeared to be an enhanced version of the legendary M24. The chief checked to make sure it was fully loaded, and policed the soldiers ammo pouch, which had a light blood coating on it. He turned and looked to his right, and found four riflemen on a firing wall, M16A2's linked to night vision goggles scanning for him. He took aim, and fired the first round.

The heavy shot blew the first soldiers head_ apart_, scarring gore across his fellow soldiers, and dropping his body off the wall. In less than half a second, the chief cycled the bolt, and fired a second shot. The next round crashed into his targets temple like a train hitting a car stopped on the tracks. That man spun to his right, his weapon going off as he fell, the stray shot shooting off into the night sky. The chief's hand flashed to the bolt, cycled it and returned to squeeze the trigger again. A sharp crack followed by a shower of bones and blood as the next shot pulverized a man's kidney, a kill that would take some time and be very painful. The chief slammed the bolt home one last time, pumping another round into the chamber, and fired, just missing as the soldier had enough sense to duck behind a sniper tower's doorway. Quickly, the chief began to reload.

A mere 5.78 seconds had passed, and four men lay dead or dying. No one could have fired a snipers rifle that fast with that accuracy…yet no one could have fired that fast with that accuracy with an assault rifle even on single shot. It was just impossible. Non-the-less, it had happened. The private was breathing hard, too hard, his eyes shut tight as he clung to his rifle. Somehow, some distant instinct put his hand on a smoke grenade. He primed it, pulled the pin, and tossed it out the door, the hammer dropping with a dull cling by his boots. A sharp puff indicated the smoke grenade had detonated, and would soon have the wall covered. But he wasn't crazy; he wasn't going to charge out and attack the world's craziest sharpshooter in a haze. He got to his feet, and ran down the spiral staircase of the snipers tower, running as fast as he could for the command center inside the fortress. He was running straight at the small building inside the old fortress, the sentries looking at him as if he had gone insane. He opened his mouth to scream "breach!" but before he could, a sharp crack sounded from directly behind him. The bullet punched through the back of his neck, and shot out through his mouth, slamming into the door of the small shack.

Two seconds had the two sentries, and only witnesses down, blood pouring from their lifeless bodies, as a silent shadow advanced in a crouch on the command center.  
The real war was about to begin

Authors Note  
Wow, been SO LONG since I updated, FINALLY got all the viruses and shit off the comp. I'm leaving the country to move back to the UK, so its been hectic planning it out.  
I hope you all still enjoy this series and I PROMISE, if I get enough positive reviews that I will make this story my best yet

Until then, check out some of my other works cheers  
Dev-O


	13. Out of Phase 13

The chief emptied the remaining two shots into the command center, and dropped the rifle, running forward, scooping up a dropped M4, and charging through the flimsy wooden wall. Two officers in uniform, pistols in hand turned to look at him, the first one managing to get a shot off before three 5.56MM bullets punched into his ribcage and tore his right ventricle apart. The second officer's pistol jammed, and before he could move his hands to surrender, a rifle butt hit him with enough force to dent the armor plating on the Pillar of Autumn. His head was _launched off his shoulders_ and splattered through the open window, blood flowing freely from the now decapitated body. The chief dropped the heavy rifle, trading it for the two pistols. He tucked each one into his waistband, and took a brief look around. There was a map of the facility, it was basically four walls, with sniper towers at random places on the wall, a large gate, and a sewer system that ran underneath.

Just as John expected, the sirens began to go off, and soldiers spewed from the barracks that was against the east wall, weapons in hand, looking for a target. Shouts to take defensive positions were relaying quickly, and the chief decided that there was no way he was sneaking out. He picked up the rifle again, and stepped outside, selecting full auto.  
His finger tightened down on the trigger, and from the huge hole in the command center's wall, lead flew. Every bullet scored a kill, 30 soldiers dropping dead, 30 more moving up to take their place, and return fire. Rifle shots rang out, bursts of fire that mostly missed, about 45 of the shots missing. The chief charged forward, and fired the M203. A huge explosion sent bodies scattering, along with limbs, guns, and gore. The soldiers that poured from the barracks were instantly soaked with blood as 12 men were blown into smithereens. The rifle was empty, and the chief dropped it, trading it for the two pistols in his waistband. He fired them as fast as he could, and another 30 soldiers fell as the two 15-shot clips rand dry. By now the soldiers firing at him were getting more accurate, being that he was almost in melee range…and then it was too late.

The last shot was fired, and the chief barreled into a crowd of about 80, that was quickly growing. When he was learning to become a Spartan, martial arts had been one of his hobbies…he put his long unused skills to the test. His fists flew forward, shoving one man with the force of an oncoming semi-truck. He flew backwards, knocking a good ten soldiers onto their feet. About 5 rifle butts flew towards the chief, but he didn't even take notice, he ducked the first one, parried the second, and punched the end of the third, strong enough to crack the entire gun. The chief rolled sideways as a bayonet came flying down to stab the earth where he had been mere moments before. He kicked the gun, bending the barrel at a 90 degree angle, then leapt up, grabbing one soldier by the arm, and spinning him around, breaking his arm. The soldier dropped the gun, and the chief expertly kicked the rifle into his free left hand, and opened fire at point blank range.  
12 more soldiers died, their heads exploding in showers of red and grey spray, bits of their shattered skulls landing here and there, crunching as more men ran over them, charging into the fray. The chief didn't stop when the M4 ran dry, he pulled the M203, another 40mm HE grenade slamming into a soldiers face from a mere 4 feet away.

The explosion dropped almost 50 men, the bits of skull were blown apart so fast, that they impaled people's throats and stabbed into legs, knees, and arms. The chief dropped the rifle and used his left hand to pull the soldier's side arm, emptying that into the crowd. When that ran dry, he stole his hostage's combat knife, and stabbed him in the throat, dropping his corpse. He hurled the knife, and it landed in another man's eye, dropping him to the ground with blood gushing out, his screams blood-curdling.  
The chief had been about to strike again, when he noticed that there was a good 30 foot circle between him and any soldiers, that entire thirty feet packed so tightly with bloody corpses, that you couldn't see the ground. As if they were one, everyone raised their rifles and fired…but even that wasn't enough. The chief's adrenaline level was so high that all this seemed to be slow motion. He dropped to the ground, and just about everyone around him dropped dead from friendly fire.

There was only one survivor. The soldier was younger than the rest, holding an M16A2, sitting on his knees shivering. The chief came over, and took the gun, then hit him with the rifle butt in the face, leaving a dent in his skull. An entire base had been eliminated; the night was silent, save for those still dying from the mortal injuries. Occasionally a handgun went off, bouncing off the chief's shields or missing, but he just ignored it. He hauled one man to his feet, and inspected the dead soldier's uniform. Finally, he found what he wanted to see. "US BORDER PATROL US/CANDA" was embroidered on a patch on his right sleeve. The chief dropped him, and took his M4, and put it around his shoulder. He found a dead sniper, and took his ammo pouch, filling it with about 12 M4 clips. He slung it tightly around his shoulder, and walked towards the front gate of the base. First, the US, next, he was going to Canada. Whatever that was.


	14. Out of Phase 14

It appeared that his mass destruction at the fort for US border patrol had not gone unnoticed. He had been walking for about an hour, when he could sense them. Snipers were _everywhere_. Also, advanced targeting systems, probably armor, which actually posed a threat, not to mention the .50CAL machine guns they'd most likely have. Riflemen were at a farther distance, so for now he was being observed. He trudged on, noticing a biting cold begin to blow, the woods he'd been walking in growing thicker. He walked on and on, not even noticing where he was going, until it happened, again. He fell to his knees, gasping in pain, holding his head. A sharp knife of white fire arched his back and dropped him onto his stomach. He opened his mouth to scream in pain, but there was nothing coming out…the world went white…and the pain was gone.  
He was staring through a very familiar Tactical HUD. A shield indicator was in the top right corner, along with readouts of his armor's integrity. A simple targeting reticule was in the center, along with his weapon and ammunition information in the top left.

The chief breathed slowly. "Cortana?" he whispered like a prayer. "Chief! Are you awake?" she said, sounding frantic. "Cortana…what's, happening to me…I can't seem to move…" he said quietly. "Chief…listen to me, the last elite you killed, his plasma rifle did something…different when it fired, the shot sent some sort of surge through your shields, and it knocked you out…I haven't detected any internal damage to your body, however, I'll start seeing if theirs anything I can do to free you up." She said, obviously already hard at work. The chief didn't understand, there was obviously nothing physically wrong with him. "I'm releasing stimulants into your blood stream, try moving something now." She said simply. John still couldn't get up, but he noticed he could move a little. "Not enough…its just not enough…" he gasped, confused at why his armor wouldn't respond. He could easily move his fingers and toes about in their confines, but otherwise he was incapacitated. John sighed, and closed his eyes for just a second, knowing that he had to find a way to get up in the REAL world…because his motion tracker had gone off.

A pack of about 20 enemies, most likely multiple elites, jackals and grunts. He was in for it if he didn't get going. But despite his best efforts, he couldn't move his armor. Even when the group turned out to be 20 elites, he couldn't move, but he almost did. He was picked up as Cortana repeatedly told him to play dead, despite the fact that the sensors on the elite's armor would recognize a dead foe. The carried him for what seemed to be an eternity, then he was rising up into the air…

"Chief, their taking us onboard one of their cruisers…that was the gravity lift…the cruiser's name is _The Fate Of Impossibility_. Odd name, even for a Covenant ship, I'll see what kind of information I can get you before they remove your armor. I've devised a plan of action chief. Obviously, there is some unknown malfunction with your armor's neural interfaces, and obviously they're going to remove it from you under heavy guard.  
When they do, you're going to…have to endure torture. Once they relax their guard, it will most likely be grunts and or jackals. Fake illnesses, and take out the lighter guards, get a pair of Jackal shields and two plasma pistols. It won't be MJOLINR armor, but it'll have to do until I can figure out what's wrong." Cortana told him. The chief winked his eye twice to show that he understood. "Good…and chief…good luck. I'll try and export my program into this cruiser, and help you in what ever way I can, good luck chief." She said. The chief suddenly gasped, as pain came shooting back into his body…the world went white again…

Chief Medical Officer Fergusson was amazed, no matter what he did, he couldn't touch the giant man's skin with his scalpel. They'd found him passed out in the woods, loaded up with weapons and ammo, apparently, the one man army who wiped out a whole US base of troops. He could touch with his bare hands, but as soon as he tried anything sharp, he'd just not be able to touch him, some kind of weird barrier between his skin and anything you tried to touch it too. He tried an IV, nothing worked…and then, he moved. The man sat up gasping for breath, and Fergusson backed away, shocked. The man's reactions were amazingly fast; he pivoted and saw him, but fortunately didn't attack. Three guards were outside, and rushed in, aiming automatic weapons at him at the sound of the commotion.

"We found you…unconscious in the forest, are you alright?" he asked in English. The man looked wary, but made a sign that he was thirsty. The doctor moved to a sink, and pulled out a small flask, filled it with water, and handed it to the giant man. He drank it all in two gulps, and asked for more in a rasping voice. The doctor refilled the glass, and filled another one while the giant swallowed incredible amounts of water. In fact, he kept drinking until he'd swallowed about 6 liters worth of water. Then, he nodded, and laid down, leaving his eyes open and staring at the roof. Everyone looked on, confused, but said nothing and let him rest.

The chief knew there was some kind of connection between what was going on in his mind and what was going on in his reality. Somehow, his armor's properties had transferred to him. So if he had it on in…and before he could finish the thought he had an idea. He stood up, and said one word. "Egress". The world went white…

The chief opened his eyes, this time seeing the world through his real armor, the deck of a covenant cruiser. And he could move, fully, freely, and easily. He found this out after he flexed his bicep…and his armor responded by adjusting the arm segment to match. The chief opened his mouth, and spoke, not caring what the Covenant would be able to translate. "Cortana, I'm back" he said simply, out loud. The result was almost comical. Apparently, a team of 8 grunts was carrying him, and he startled them. Instantly, they all dropped him, and took off, skittering away yelling "HELP! HELP! IT MOVES!" The chief landed on his face, and quickly got up, looking around. Cortana suddenly filled his mind again, she was back. "Chief! I don't know how or why that happened, but the priority right now is to GET OUT OF THIS LANDING BAY. There are four teams of black armored elites heading your way now, and you're unarmed, I suggest you seek cover as soon as possible". However, to her shock, he didn't move a muscle.

"Cortana, even if I run, they have the entire ship's security grid to trace me, and more troops than I could hope to defeat even if I had a gun. So I'm going to put a theory of mine to the test." He said, flexing his arms and legs, cracking his knuckles. "Oh?" Cortana responded. "And what theory might that be?"  
"That the higher the rank, the more honor becomes important in the covenant warrior caste." He said. Cortana didn't reply as two elites in black armor rushed from a door to his right. They took aim with their plasma rifles, but didn't fire. The chief dropped into a fighting stance, and waved them forward. The elites stood still for a moment, as if deliberating, then clipped their weapons to their belts, and rushed forward. The chief had very little hand to hand combat experience with elites…but in the strange…mental surrealism he had been suspended in, he had plenty of practice to refresh his unarmed combat skills. He leapt straight up, and shoved his legs out. 

Each of his boots caught an elite in the face, and sent them sprawling. The chief landed on his back, and rolled backwards to his feet, dropping again into a fighting stance, waving them forward. They roared and rushed him again, more cautious this time. One went low, aiming for his ribs, the other going for a head shot. The chief parried the low strike as he ducked the head shot, straight punching the first elite in the gut, causing it to stagger backwards. The second one swung hard to its right with a sweeping throw of its entire arm. The chief dropped again to his knees, and punched forward. His fist caught the elite in the ribs, and it grabbed its side, but didn't move. The chief struck again, slugging it hard in the head, and then again, punching the center of its armored chest. The elite rocked backwards as its companion pressed the assault.

A pair of clawed hands grabbed John's shoulders, and threw him _over_ the elites head. He landed hard and grunted, as they rushed forward. He rolled over dodging a poorly aimed kick, that knocked the flanking elite off balance. The one that was in front of him dove forward in a tackle. The chief timed it right, and shoved his feet up, locking his legs together; summoning all the force he could muster from the armor. The result was like a piston head striking out to far; the elite took the blow, and was instantly blown in half. Purple blue blood was sprayed everywhere, and the creature screamed in agony. Its partner was paralyzed for a moment, but it soon pressed the attack, swinging full force. The chief took the blow hard as he parried it with his right arm, jabbing back, but not having enough effect. The second block nearly dented the plating, but the chief danced backwards and refocused himself. He charged forward and attacked with a high roundhouse kick, the boot slamming into the creature's side, tossing it through the wall to land hard against a bulkhead. This broke its right arm, a loud snap seeming to reverberate. The chief didn't stop though, he ran forward, and summoned the absolute maximum amount of kinetic energy his armor could supply him with, and swung a wide sweeping arm strike. The side of his fist connected, and the head of the elite disintegrated in a cloud of purple and blue mist.

The chief grabbed the body and policed the plasma rifle. Cortana seemed silent, then spoke. "Seems your theory was correct. Take me to the command center chief…I'm tired of riding shuttles and drop ships…"

AUTHORS NOTES  
I like this one, but due to the overwhelming number of "YOU MUST FINISH IT" comments, This series is likely going to end on the next chapter. Watch out for the craziest, longest, most insane OUT OF PHASE you've seen yet ;-)  
I want to thank you all for your support, but really, this story's fate is in your hands, you've got to tell ME if you want it to continue. Thanks for reading, check out my other works…oh, and here's two simple things I REALLY NEED HELP WITH!  
1. Anyone happen to know the redline on a 2000 Mercury Cougar? The Tachometer doesn't show a redline…  
2.Anyone got some lyrics for the Devil May Cry 3 theme song?  
LoL Random shit, but hey, do what ya gotta huh? Thanks guys, take it easy  
Dev


	15. Out of Phase 15

The chief breathed quietly, holding the covenant beam rifle close to his chest. One shot, one chance, one shot, and one chance. The two phrases kept darting through his mind as he waited for the right moment. There was one elite in gold armor, and about twelve more in red and blue. All of them were armed with plasma rifles, and the chief was sure that there camouflaged elites patrolling the room to keep the operators in line and awake. They would be armed with plasma swords. The chief had a plan, but the chances of it working were slim. But there wasn't any other choice if he wanted to escape alive. He peered through the ventilation duct, and zoomed in as far as possible, lining the shot up for the center of the heads. The crosshairs burned red, and the chief touched the firing stud. The beam rifle kicked hard against his right shoulder, and the shot plowed into the first target.

But because all the work stations were in a circle around the perimeter of the room…a good six elites fell dead with gaping holes in their heads, blood, flesh, and rapidly cooling plasma seeping onto the cold, hard deck plates. The chief spun around behind the bulkhead. Holding the weapon to his chest, hearing the other elites sound the alarm in confusion, wondering where the shot had come from. The chief heard the plasma swords flicking on, and knew they would be much more aware for his next shot. He crouched, and aimed very carefully, the slightest movement would have him frying the vent cover instead of the elite. The golden armor had a dull shine to it in the dim lighting of the control room, the circular command section increasing the reflections. The golden elite took two cautious steps down the small ramp to the lower level…and a beam of high energy plasma blew his head apart, vaporizing his brain and armor, melting the skin and the skull, and putting a scorching dent on a distant bulkhead.

This time, the alarm was more fearful, and a few wild shots went up at the roof, the elites obviously believing that the sniper was hiding above in some ventilation duct. The next part was going to be tricky; he would have to take out the invisible elites from behind. He could hear the doors swish open as they came to search for him. He moved into a side hallway, where a pressure door for the command center escape pod hatch was, and pulled himself up to the roof, then, spreading his arms and legs in a V, held himself back against the roof plating. The invisible elite walked right under him, plasma sword glowing, turned around…and had has spine shattered as the chief dropped his full weight onto him, striking the head with the beam rifle's butt. The alien fell, his AC disengaged, and the chief dragged his body into the corner, hoping no one would look for it anytime soon. He policed the plasma sword, and using some damaged conduit on the wall, tied it around his thigh armor pad securely. 

The rest of the command crew was moving about nervously in the command center, looking for something to aim their plasma rifles at. The chief crouched by the vent cover, and took careful aim again. His first shot blew searing holes through 4 elite chest plates. The second disintegrated almost 90 of one's throat, killing it almost instantly, and punching a mortal wound into one's shoulder, blood leaking like a broken water fountain from the wound. His third beam created a hole the size of grenade crater in the next target's abdomen, the same fate for the three men standing behind him as well. Only three more remained, and they had quickly spread out…and somehow spotted his firing position. They fired their plasma rifles valiantly, but the poorly aimed barrages of shots were far to large to penetrate such a tiny hole that the chief was firing through. They punched into the metallic cover, but didn't burn through, simply made sparks, and heated the metal until it was red hot. But by the time that happened, they were all lying in pools of their own blood. The chief saw a movement to his left, the door opened, and nothing was there but a glowing plasma sword.

He dropped the beam rifle and yanked out his other firearm, a covenant standard issue plasma pistol. His finger tightened over the firing stud as he backed up, a charge rapidly building on the end of the weapon, a glowing mass of overcharged plasma. Finally, the charge meter on the pistol was blinking, showing it was read. The elite roared and charged him, raising the sword up high…and caught a full blast of plasma in the chest, blowing his energy shields apart and staggering him backwards. The chief counted the precious seconds he needed to cool down before he could fire as the elite roared and started for him again. The chief aimed high, and opened fire. He fired eight shots in less than 2.5 seconds, blowing smoking holes in the elite's chest armor and abdomen. The creature roared, then fell, giving a quite death moan as blood drained from its body rapidly. Cortana spoke to him quietly, "Bridge secure chief."

The chief entered the command center quietly, still wary, but knowing it was safe. Once he reached the elevated platform, he pulled Cortana from his helmet and inserted her into the cruiser's systems. He waited for five minutes before she finally spoke to him through an unseen speaker from a console. "Chief, I've fully integrated myself into the cruiser. This one has no AI that I can recognize, this proves that some of our technology is superior to there's, interesting. I'm pulling up star charts and navigation systems." She said. The chief considered briefly, and then started hammering out commands. "Cortana, seal this command center, and alert me of assault teams coming to try and recapture. I want you to decompress every deck except the one I'm on, and erect security screens around all doors." He ordered. Cortana paused, then said "It's done" right as shielding covered the insides of the door. "Cortana, power up the cruiser's weapons, and target the Pillar of Autumn's wreckage. We still have a mission to complete." He ordered, trying fruitlessly to make sense of the interfaces. "Locked on target chief, plasma torpedoes armed and ready." She said.

The chief came to a stance of attention and saluted thin air. "Fire" he said before relaxing.  
"Torpedoes away, twenty seconds to impact, engaging main drive engines" she said. The cruiser thrummed to life as power from her primary reactors was injected into the engines. Cortana brought up a display in front of the chief that showed their distance from the ring. "Impact in 10 seconds chief, suggest you brace yourself" Cortana chimed sounding unconcerned about the structural integrity of the vessel. That was good enough for him, so he simply took a hard grip on a large beam, clamping his fingers to the metal and locking the joints. "Three seconds" Cortana informed him. The chief glanced at the display that showed the distance from the ring. He couldn't really tell, but it looked like several thousand kilometers. "Impact" Cortana said. Seconds later, the screen went white as the ring detonated. "Direct hit, the fusion blast seems to have blown the ring into pieces…shockwave, incoming!" she reported sharply. The chief sucked in his breath, and the shockwave hit. The huge vessel seemed to be rocked forward in space as the massive blast slammed into its shields. The vibrations intensified, and the chief amazingly lost his grip on the beam of metal. He was tossed sideways through the holographic display, landing hard in a small crevice below.

Just as quickly as it came it passed, and the chief leapt back up to the platform in a short bound. "Status" he said. "Shields are holding at about 58 capacities, I'm working on repairs now, should have them back to full power in about an hour. Otherwise, we're fine aside from a few minor overloads in the shuttle bays, but who cares? We're literally the only crew on this ship now…oh, hell. Chief…I retract my previous statement. Covenant _carrier_ just now entering the system. You might want to prepare to repel borders…" she said. But the chief shook his head. "We can easily outmaneuver a carrier in this. Prepare for combat Cortana, I'm not running from anything anymore." The cruiser's gun turrets primed themselves, and Cortana continued to work on the shields. "They're signaling us chief…" she said. The chief tapped a button on a console. "Chief! You just launched a whole broadside of plasma torpedoes!" she snapped. Inside his helmet, the chief grinned.  
"I know"

AUTHORS NOTES  
Wow, this has been the most fun chapter to write yet.  
I'm still lookin for a 2000 Mercury Cougars RPM redline, anyone know? Haha  
This will be the last installment for awhile, I'm taking a trip to the UK for about 2 weeks, so if you're desperate for more material, try my other Halo story :  
"The Rise and Fall of the Flood" or read my other works. Enjoy!


	16. Out Of Phase 16 Grand Finale

-1The chief stood stock still as he waited for the torpedoes to hit the carrier. He'd seen battle records of naval combat, when covenant ships exited slipstream space, they were disoriented and powered down for several seconds. Hopefully, the torpedoes would hit the ship just before its shields came on. If not, then they would at least hit before they were at full power. The Chief stared at the covenant displays, watching as his weapons tracked in on the massive carrier. Cameras tracked them, as the streaked in towards the target. "Three, two, one…impact!" Cortana said. The cameras overloaded, so bright was the blast. But when they cleared, what remained was half a carrier, the other half vaporized, leaving the great hulk of (half) a ship burning and being consumed by secondary explosions. "Not bad, nice shot Chief." Cortana said. The camera zoomed into the wreckage…but was it wreckage? The Chief somehow doubted it as a pulse laser turret on the ventral side of the carrier began to rotate towards the cruiser. "Cortana. All available plasma weapons and pulse lasers. Finish them." he ordered stiffly.

The _Fate of Impossibility_ lashed out in space in a fusillade that would impress anyone. All her laser weapons fired beams of searing light to stab into the carrier's hull and armor plates, plasma torpedo tubes fired again and the result was truly devastating. The lasers caused melted armor, burns, minor damage unless it punched into a section. The torpedoes however went far beyond that. The first one slammed into the turret itself, blowing a gaping hole in the side of the carrier. This hole was further exploited by a laser blast from a turret on the cruiser that ripped into the internals of the ship, causing catastrophic damage to everything inside, and plenty more outside as well. The barrage continued as more torpedoes hammered the already battered bulk of the ship, pulverizing metals and beings within. It was like a silent opera of death on the camera, and the Chief was enjoying the show. Explosions consumed the vessel as laser turrets carved up what little remained. The battle was over, and it had lasted all of two minutes. "Chief…I'm going to continue with our original mission. Attempting to access the covenant navigational computer now." she said. The Chief stiffened. Their home world? This was insane. "Cortana, I did not go through all THAT," he indicated to the screen "just to be killed by your suicide mission protocols. Discontinue and set course for Earth." he said. There was no reply, so he simply yanked her out of the terminal. "What the…you IDIOT! This mission is of the utmost importance to…wait." she said. The Chief raised an eyebrow inside his helmet. "Wait?" he asked, confused. "Chief, I'm still connected to the covenant computer system…" she mused.

The Chief was completely baffled. "How is that possible?" he asked. "Oh for God's sake Spartan, surely you know what wireless is? This is a MJOLINR armor, not an action figurine," she teased him. The Chief shrugged his shoulders. "So why the 'wait' then?" he responded. Cortana was silent for a full five seconds before answering. "Because something in the engine room powered up…and its not stopping. I think, somehow, we've set off a self destruct sequence." she whispered. The Chief wasted not one nano second and began strolling for the door. "Cortana, find me the fastest route to any escape vehicle, shuttle, drop ship, phantom, Banshee, anything. Then pressurize and lower security fields that take me on the most direct route to the exit. Make it fast." he ordered. A door swooshed open. "Done." Cortana said. "There's a Scarab in a launch bay in the stern of the vessel. Get moving." she said. The Chief started running, his armored boots smacking the hard deck plating with clangs, a nav point burning in his HUD. He focused on speed alone, not the timer Cortana had conveniently put up to show him her 'estimated' time until detonation. He just ran and ran and ran until he ran into an obstacle. The doors to the launch bay were sealed. Completely. "Cortana…" he began. She didn't respond, but the door slid open. The Scarab was intact, at least externally. The Chief grappled his way into the one-man fighter and simply started flicking switches. "Chief, put me in the Scarab," Cortana demanded. The Chief only grinned. "Haven't you heard of wireless? This is a MJOLINR suit, not Bluetooth." he replied sarcastically. Cortana was just about to snap at him when he jammed her into the access port.

The Scarab powered on seconds later. The Chief gripped what could only be the primary piloting interface and gingerly pressed it forwards. The Scarab lurched slightly, but otherwise didn't move. The Chief muttered, and saw something else that looked like a throttle, and simply slammed it forward. Cortana had lowered the bay's shielding, and the Scarab shot off into the infinite void of space. The little fighter streaked away from the cruiser, and the Chief got a first hand view of how much damage he had actually done to the carrier. "Cortana, any chance of enemy single ships?" he asked. A screen lit up to his left displaying several blips, much like a radar screen, only far more detailed. The Chief winced. A full flight of covenant Seraphs was closing on him. But they were on the far side of the Cruiser, and the little timer was on about one minute. "Cortana, calculate their velocity, my velocity, and your closest estimate to the speed of the shockwave when the ship detonates. Show me a safe distance point, and tell me if those Scarabs will be destroyed." he said bluntly. "Done. Adjusting your course now, increasing power to engines. It'll be tight, but I think you'll just clear the shockwave. I've established a remote access to that cruiser, this should give them something to worry about," she said, sounding bemused. The Chief didn't need to see the laser blasts coming from the cruiser to know that Cortana was taking shots at the Seraphs. "Well, these turrets aren't very good, but most of the fighters have broken off. Looks like you'll have five Seraphs still on you, two of which might not make it through the explosion. Ten seconds until detonation." Cortana informed him.

The Chief checked his safety harness and gripped the controls tightly. "Detonation, now." Cortana said. The result was a surprising anti-climax. Space was silent, so there was a great flash of light, but no noise at all. The ship was just clear of the shockwave as it passed through the rear of two of the tailing fighters, destroying them utterly, instantly vaporizing every molecule into oblivion. That left three Scarabs. The chief decided to press the advantage of the explosion, and slammed the controls to starboard. The ship heeled over and arced through space, coming about hard. Very quickly, his crosshairs were glowing red, and his fingers mashed both triggers. Fighter-sized fuel-rod guns cut loose a heavy volley, and his high output plasma beams lanced out into space, carving up the lead fighter's shields with ease, the fuel-rod blasts immolating the forward half of the vessel, which exploded brilliantly against the disquieting background of a dying carrier. The other two fighters broke formation and swooped out to flank him. The Chief, in theory, should have gone for one of them, possibly destroyed him, but in turn been shot from behind. He had no such plan in mind. He simply came about as hard as he could, just as they finished circling. The result was a head-to-head collision course. The Chief jammed his triggers and his plasma weapons lashed out, carving into the shield systems of both of the enemy fighters, but not doing enough damage to drop them. They returned fire, but the Chief was faster than your average Elite, and flicked the ship away, so that his starboard beam cannon raked a tiny bit more damage onto the other fighter's shields as he banked hard. The Chief went into erratic evasive action, and the other two followed, spraying plasma everywhere. Bolts of searing blue energy sizzled past his fighter as he rolled and side slipped, almost throwing the controls around at random.

One plasma beam landed squarely on his aft quarter, and alarms blared as the fighter's light shielding nearly gave way. The Chief didn't stop though, going into a booster climb, rolling the ship and then arcing it back into a lateral swing. At the apex of the swing, as the two other Seraphs turned to follow, he mashed the throttle into reverse and then threw the ship into a counter-clockwise sideslip motion. The effect was perfect, and one of the Seraphs was broadside right in front of him. The Chief mashed all his triggers, and fuel rod cannons and plasma beams carved the little ship into a molten fireball, silently exploding in space. The second Seraph had responded a little better, but only slightly. His ship had gone into a dive, avoiding the shot, but putting him in an easy firing position…for the Chief, who was promptly on his tail. This time, it was the reverse. The Chief sprayed plasma as the other fighter bobbed and weaved, rolled and yawed, and generally played havoc with the Chief's firing solution. But again, the Chief showed his superiority, and stopped trying to stay directly behind the other ship, he simply positioned himself, and fired his fuel rod cannons. As predicted, the erratic evasive maneuvers of the other Seraph combined with the velocity of the fuel rod bursts worked perfectly, and the enemy fighter flew sideways into the pair of them. The damage took off the starboard side of the ship, and it began to spin out of control, consumed by blue plasma fires.

The Chief was already pulling away, finally free of the mess and catastrophe that the ring had been. He almost felt relief, until a Covenant stealth ship shimmered into existence before his fighter, at less than 3,000 meters. The Chief didn't even bother to move the ship. "Chief…what are you doing?" Cortana asked. "I told you Cortana. I'm not running from anything anymore. We're going aboard, and we're going to take THAT ship back to earth." he stated, full of confidence. Cortana only sighed. The landing bay opened, revealing a force of grunts and elites. The Chief didn't just land the ship though, he opened fire, spraying high-energy plasma beams and firing micro-capital grade fuel rod cannons. The result was devastating. The shots he managed to get off before the covenant engaged a suppression field killed almost everything in the bay, and cause severe structural damage. The Seraph was being pulled down, but the Chief had a better idea. A small jetty like structure divided the bay, so the Chief climbed out of the top of the fighter, and leapt on top of it. The covenant troops, still recovering from his final fusillade, didn't even notice as he slipped into cover on the upper deck. "Cortana," the Chief whispered, "calculate the crew compliment of this vessel based on its size." he said. Unarmed, he was still powerful, but an entire covenant ship was a force to be reckoned with. "I estimate anywhere between 50 to 100, total." she responded matter-of-factly. The Chief screwed up his face, but stayed focused as he kept ghosting from cavity to cavity in the bulkheads along the corridor. The alert sounded quickly, and he knew they'd be on him. "Cortana…" he began. "Already got it Chief. Nav point is up, that's your command center." she told him. The Chief said nothing, and focused on moving.

He came around a corner at a major junction and found exactly what he DIDN'T want to run into. Hunters. Of course, the Chief had his MJOLINR armor and had learned a few tricks, but there wasn't much maneuvering room. So, he tried something else. He blurred forward, not caring what happened, hoping, relying on the idea that they wouldn't be foolish enough to try fuel rod guns. His fingers found the edge of an armor plate, wrapped under it, and he pulled. The plate was torn from the body with a snap, but just as he pulled it free, he twisted it, and slammed it into the flesh, penetrating a fine grey mesh underneath the plate. Blood poured from the open wound as the Hunter flung his arms every which way. The plate had jabbed deep into him, and the Chief followed it up with a hard punch. The impact slammed the plate almost completely into the alien's body, blood pouring from the wound at an unbelievable amount, the Chief must have penetrated some organ.

The second hunter, however, was not going to simply let this human kill his comrade. He swung his giant shield arm, and smacked the man into the nearest bulkhead with a thud. The Chief rolled when he hit the floor, the big creature lunging over him. He ended up behind the creature, and he spun and dove. His tackle had been aimed at the leg, and it was right on target. He grabbed hold and rolled forward, taking the giant lumbering beast down onto its back. He then stood, still holding the leg, and leapt backwards. It worked, and with a roar, the creatures leg snapped like cannon shot. The Chief didn't so much as flinch, and followed up with a few heavy punches to the head, leaving bloody dents in the armor. Two down. Ninety eight to go. He kept charging towards the nav point, until he burst into the command center, unarmed. Oddly, only one elite was present, the rest were grunts. The one nearest the chief had his back turned, so the Chief snuck up behind him and in one swift blow, severed the creature's head from his spine, its blood oozing out slowly. The chief policed the grunt's pistol, and managed to whip around the corner just as the alarm was raised.

Klaxons blared, covenant barked orders, and weapons were primed. The Chief overcharged the pistol and rolled into the room, firing. The huge blast of green energy ripped into the chest of a grunt, who was flung backwards into a wall, a scorched hole of burnt flesh the size of a baseball in his chest. The Chief let the weapon cool as he ducked around a corner from incoming fire. He bobbed back out and squeezed out five shots, all of them wrecking the face of another grunt, who made a gurgling noise as its melted lips attempted reflexively moved. The Chief ducked and continued his assault as plasma blasts flew over his head. His next volley ripped into the right knee of the last grunt took the leg off at that point. The creature fell over, screaming at the molten stub of flesh. The Elite had at first ducked around a corridor, to ascertain the situation, and ascertain he had. The creature roared in defiance, his golden armor gleaming as he charged at the Chief, plasma rifle ablaze. The Chief managed to get seven solid hits in before the creature's rifle fire had drained his shields significantly. He ducked around the corner and held down the firing stud. The Chief whirled, thinking the elite was still at a distance, but found himself incorrect as a knee smacked into his face.

The Chief was tossed backwards hard, releasing the firing stud. The effect was pure luck, as with a pop, the commander's shields failed. The Chief rolled backwards and opened fire…he got off three shots before the weapon died. The elite was bleeding from a wound in its shoulder and left arm in two places, but still armed, and still very angry. So the Chief did what he did best, and changed the rules. He hurled the weapon as hard as he could as he charged forward. The gun bounced harmlessly off a parrying forearm, but it closed the distance easily. The Chief tackled the giant alien and began to mercilessly pound him with every available appendage. His fists and boots, shins and knees, elbows, and even his head rained blows down on the creature. Armor was dented, bones were broken, and ultimately Death collected its due. The Chief stood slowly, and picked up the dropped plasma rifle. It had a 53 charge left. But really, he wouldn't need it now. An eerie quiet settled over him as he moved to the control consoles for the stealth ship. He slipped Cortana into the console, and she did exactly what she had done on that cruiser…the _Fate of Impossibility_. She sealed off the control room, and decompressed the entire remaining ship. Minutes later, the Chief was the only one left standing. He stood quietly on the deck while Cortana silently adjusted their course. The stealth ship rotated silently in space, and prepared to travel to Earth. "Chief. There's no way to put you into stasis for this trip…" Cortana said.

The Chief nodded, and scooped up the plasma rifle. He attached Cortana into his helmet, and then turned the rifle on himself. The shot bounced off his shields just as the world went white again…

The Chief awoke, head spinning. He wasn't sure how, but he was in a small cell, and his body ached. He was connected to an IV drip and what appeared to be highly primitive life-support. He was clothed in absolutely nothing, but he knew full well that he was very well protected. He gingerly removed the IV drip, and placed pressure on the wound. He was wired to heart monitors, but he managed to find some gauze laying on a small table near his bed. Given the nature of the equipment on it, the chief surmised he was about to be operated on. Change of plans, then. He stood, and forcefully ripped the cardio sensors from his naked torso. There was nothing to clothe himself in, but that had been part of his training when he was very young. Become comfortable and used to being unclothed, as fighting unclothed if you are captured may well occur. The Chief breathed deep, and moved for the door. It was solid, very solid. Reinforced titanium, with a heavy electronic lock. Of course, it didn't matter. The chief's full strength could easily flip a sixty-six ton scorpion battle tank. He simply breathed.

It was the breath of destruction. He sucked in his breath and focused on his arms. Then, he lunged forward and performed a double lunge, his twin fists slamming into the door hard enough to send the heavy door into the wall of the corridor. Guards had been posted, the Chief took pride that he warranted four armed men to guard him. Not that it mattered, as before they could react to the door he was in the corridor. Two stood to either side of him, the other two directly across from the other two. The chief simply snapped his arms out. The force of his blows snapped two spinal cords as two men dropped, helpless and paralyzed from the neck down. The other two men were beginning to raise the sub-machine guns they were armed with when the chief lunged forward and close lined each of them across the neck. The two men were left bleeding and unconscious, sitting perfectly in the indentations in the wall. The Chief policed a weapon. He had two primary objectives for this duration into the little dream land he had somehow come across. He would find himself a quiet place to live and avoid detection at all costs until he could be revived from the dream state he was in.

Of course, he needed to get out of wherever he was, first. The Chief just walked. Interestingly, he walked for over an hour, stumbling past an odd guard or two, encountering almost no resistance. Until finally, he noticed something. Slowly, he'd made his way in a big loop, and each time, different doors and entrance/exit points had been sealed. Someone was guiding him somewhere. The Chief took a minute to examine the aesthetics of the place. It was highly advanced looking, very bright overhead lighting, white tile walls and floors, heavy metallic doors everywhere, long corridors. Something straight out of a horror film. The Chief vaguely speculated it was a medical research facility, although that was just a wild guess. His guessing time came to an abrupt end as he entered a massive room, easily large enough to be a small hangar bay onboard a medium-size UNSC vessel. Spookily, there was only one man standing in the middle of it. The lighting was painfully bright and white, reflecting off the Chief's naked body. His muscles rippled as he entered the room, and the other man moved…no, almost glided towards him on his feet. That was the sign of an experienced fighter, and the Chief was ever so slightly wary.

The Chief walked forwards casually, on the balls of his feet. He simply moved to brush the man aside, which he learned instantly was a mistake. The man was tall, skinny, but not gaunt, and heavily muscled for his body's shape and size. His skin had a slightly brownish tan to it, one that suggested it was his natural skin color instead of his complexion. The man moved like a viper, his body arcing to the left as his right knee connected solidly with the Chief's chest. The Chief felt surprise as the impact didn't seem to have been stopped by his shielding. Before the Chief could react, the man readjusted his footing, and leapt, catching the Chief in the side of the head with his left knee. The Chief reeled as he was knocked backwards. He regained his balance quickly and dropped his weight. The man was DEFINITLY an experienced fighter and martial artist. The style seemed familiar but the Chief couldn't pin it in just two movements. This time the Chief advanced swiftly and directly in a low crouch. The fighter leapt at him, his simple black body suit shining in the lights as he aimed an aerial kick at the Chief. The Chief rolled smoothly to his side, then dived like a wrestler at the fighter. The spear connected solidly, but the man had reacted nearly quick enough, and was instead flipped over the Chief's right shoulder. The Chief spun and rolled over backwards at the same time as the man flipped in mid-air and landed firmly on his feet, dropping into a fighting stance the chief recognized. A dangerous martial art, muay thai. The Chief silently hoped he did not find himself in an arm lock, or else he would be minus one arm. The man advanced again, but this time the Chief tried something new. He faked a left jab, and found a right leg whirling towards his left shoulder. His super-human reaction time was the only thing that made it possible when he lunged with his right and caught the mans ankle. Severely stunned by the Chief's speed the thai fighter paused, for an instant. The next he threw his weight towards the Chief.

The Chief ended up with the fighter on his head, hammering him with elbows. Slightly dazed, the Chief managed to flail, landing a heavy blow to the man's ribs. The fighter was thrown five feet away from the chief, pin wheeling as he went until he smashed into the padding of the floor. He paused only momentarily before leaping to his feet. The man advanced silently yet again, but with far more aggression in his walk. This time, the fighter lashed out at the chief in a fury. A heavy right hand smashed into the Chief's forearm block, followed quickly by a sharp jab to the left side of the Chief's body with a shin. The man rained blows at the Chief, who was barely managing to parry them all. Finally, as the man went for a more elegant attack, the Chief saw an opening. As the fighter spun around and prepared to leap, the Chief lunged forward with a double cross arm smash from the right. His hands and arms hit with piston like force, and the man was knocked to the floor so hard and fast that he bounced.

It was a testament to the experience and prowess of the man that he didn't have any broken bones. He simply stood up, although lethargically. The Chief felt several bruises forming on his sides and arms, even on the sides of his knees where he had blocked some kicks. The man simply rushed at the Chief this time, in blind blood lust. The Chief decided to show the man that he wasn't the only one who knew a thing or two about martial arts. They were part of the Chief's training. He didn't really like to use any of them, as his felt it was awkward with his body type. Never-the-less, he learnt them off by heart. The Chief ran at the man as well, and leapt at the last instant to the right, spinning into a butterfly twist as he went. The Chief's right leg snaked out in mid-arc and caught the fighter squarely in the chest. The man landed on his back hard, but instantly rolled up to face the Chief. The Thai fighter attacked again, with long kicks and short, powerful knee thrusts. The Chief fought back with one of his favorite hand to hand styles, a Russian fighting system known vaguely as 'the system'. The Thai man surprised him with a jab from his right hand, but the Chief reacted fast enough to counter. His left hand grabbed the punch and rotated the whole arm in a circle to the left while his right hand rotate the head to the right.

The quick combination had the man spinning in mid air then sprawling on the padded floor, stunned. The Chief didn't hesitate to follow up. He rushed in like a football player and lashed out with his right leg. The sword tip of his foot smashed into the man's temple with bone shattering force. The man twitched once as blood began to flow from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. Then, he ceased to breathe. He was dead.

The Chief managed a large exhalation of breath. That had been the most challenging opponent he'd ever faced in hand to hand combat, and he'd fought with the best both humans and covenant had to offer. The chief reoriented himself, and walked to the sealed door the man had been blocking the path too. He heaved it open to reveal what appeared to be a decontamination chamber. He stepped in and sealed the door. There was a single red button in the room, so he pressed it. The lights went out, and he heard gasses hissing into the room. The gas filled the room for mere seconds before the opposite end of the chamber opened. The Chief stepped through into blinding sunlight. His pupils adjusted quickly, and he took a look at where he was. What he saw was fascinating, a skyline of massive buildings of a heavily populated urban centre. Of course that was fascinating, but it was also bizarre as he appeared to be standing in what was essentially a car parking lot. There were all sorts of land vehicles around him, from tiny, two person vehicles to massive truck like vehicles. The Chief noticed one in particular that he found interesting, it was black with large metallic wheels, it had the badge 'RS4' on the back. The Chief approached the vehicle and waited.

It took hours, but eventually a man in a suit approached the car. The Chief was sitting against the wheels, naked, and covered in bruises and cuts. The man immediately reacted the way the Chief expected. "Jesus, are you ok buddy? What happened?" he said, while opening up what had to be a portable communications device. The Chief lashed out rapidly with his head. The Chief's skull impacted solidly on the man's crotch, and he dropped, groaning. The Chief picked up the communications device, some kind of phone, and hurled it off the edge of the building. He then took the man's keys from his pocket and, with a whispered apology, took the man's trousers, which barely fit him. Then, the Chief got in the car. He put the keys in, and heard a very satisfying roar. He had assumed that RS4 was just a production number, but taking into account the aesthetics of the vehicle, and that roar that could only be a rather large engine, he suddenly had a better idea. There was a roar and a squeal of tires as the Chief floored it and peeled away from the parking lot. He went down several ramps, exited onto quiet urban streets. It was dark out, the vehicles chronometer told him it was 0200 hours, and there was almost nothing going on. The Chief managed to get the vehicle out of the city without incident, which city he didn't know. All he did know was that he would head south, and hope for the best.

He managed to get the vehicle onto a highway, which was equally barren save for large transportation vehicles with more than 16 wheels. He pushed the car as fast as it would go, the engine screaming as he slammed his way through the gears until the speedometer read 155mph. He shot through the night, as if he was in a trance. Time seemed to become fuzzy, and his next moment of clarity came when the sun was beginning to climb over the horizon and his head was pounding with dehydration. The Chief had no idea where he was, but his fuel readout was frighteningly low. So the Chief decided to test a theory he had thought up. He kept his speed steady at 155, and raced head on at a barricade. The RS4 smashed into the barricade, vaporizing the front end. The Chief was flung out of the rear window of the car, and just before his head slammed into a large oncoming vehicle, the world went white and fuzzy…

The Chief sat up in his armor. "Welcome back. We're approaching the orbit of Saturn, Chief. it's a good thing you woke up when you did, because it seems the Covenant are in system. They're sending a Cruiser to investigate ours. We've been taking some damage, and…"

"Cortana."

"Yes?"

"How far are we from Earth?"

"An hour or so if I increase power to the engines."

"Good."

"As I was saying, we're about to…"

"CORTANA."

"What IS IT!?"

"Shut up."


End file.
